


Light and Water: 12/7

by clickclickBANG



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Blow Jobs, Don't worry, Food Play, History Jokes, I'm not sorry, M/M, Sex, Smut, THE BAD PUNS ARE STILL THERE, does this count as food play?, i'll tag it anyways, i'm a huge nerd guys, the self-indulgent gods au that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickclickBANG/pseuds/clickclickBANG
Summary: In the beginning, there were only the two - light and water.And from them, all of life was born.And so the two of them - light and water - would defend all that they had made, from jealous stars, from entropy, from destruction, even from life itself.And they would have fun while doing it.You guys know what that means at this point.---------An odd little piece to show you the inner machinations of my mind.*milk falls over*





	1. Huitzilopochtli and Tlaloc: Panquetzaliztli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long and rather complicated and kinda weird story to explain how I got to this point, but I'll try.
> 
> I don't play FPS games. They never had much appeal for me - they either focused on WWII, or were some sort of "gritty anti-terrorist game," or something that just didn't appeal to me. The game that ever got the closest was Team Fortess 2 or Portal, but both of those are rather different than "a generic first-person shooter," and I never actually played TF2, just enjoyed bits and pieces of the zanniness that appeared.
> 
> Overwatch changed all of that.
> 
> I started with the characters because they were so UNIQUE - they were diverse, beautiful, bright, and fun. There was so much potential to them, all their dialogue, their concepts, their interactions. And then I started looking into the game's maps, its locations, its world, and I found something of a similar quality: places that were bright and colorful and beautiful all around. And then I finally actually got the game, and I was BLOWN AWAY. I wasn't good - I still am not particularly good - but it was such a wonderful JOY to play and experience that I didn't care. Each character felt unique, each character played a different strategy, each character felt wonderful to experience.
> 
> Overwatch was an experience.
> 
> A lot has changed for me even in a few months since I started playing - as many of you know, I am very critical of how Blizzard is handling its character writing and development, and I will continue to put down my thoughts when I feel they are necessary. But at the same time, I want to describe the ways that Overwatch inspired me - inspired me to play something new, inspired me to write again, inspired me to see brightness and colors in characters and maps and gameplay. I know that the game and its related content are not perfect, especially things like the mythology-related skins, but I appreciate that the core concept and overall designs of many of these characters even exist. I appreciate that Ana and Pharah have references to Horus, I appreciate that Mercy has actual Valkyrie skins, I appreciate that Hanzo has his Oni and Okami skins, I appreciate that the myths of Sun Wukong and Chang'e are now in the game - hell, I even appreciate that something as unique as the story of Frankenstein is referenced.
> 
> I'm not a game designer, but I know what it's like to get burned out on trying to sustain creative drives and energies for long periods of time, especially years. I know things change. I know stories change. I know that things can be handled with care and creativity one moment and then handled with roughness and problems the next. I believe all of these are important to having nuanced discussions with content creators and fans. That said, for whatever it is worth, this piece is meant as a love letter to the things in Overwatch that inspired me and resparked my imagination. This fic itself is not perfect. It never will be. It's not meant to be anything more than a fun, flirty, flighty little fic. It's a roadmap of the ideas, metaphors, and concepts that go into how I see these characters and this world. It's meant to be used as a guide for past and future pieces that I post, and really nothing more, although I do hope it inspires others. 
> 
> I have turned on moderated comments mainly to catch any that are potentially rude. All compliments, praise, suggestions, or even criticisms will be permitted through, so long as the latter are polite and informative. It's one thing to give me polite criticism with examples, and another thing to outright insult me. As I said, I know this fic isn't perfect - I don't need that reminder, and frankly, for whatever its worth, this fic HAS beauty in it. It has colors. It has brightness. And even if it's not perfect, I'd like to be able to share those parts of it, because maybe someone else will be inspired to see and experience them too.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who stops by, and thank you again to people who have commented on other fics. I am coming back to those comments, I promise. I wanted to work through and finish this first before I got too burned out on it.
> 
> \---------
> 
> Edit: realized I didn't put a year down, but this is meant to take place at the end of the Western calendar year 1404.

**Huitzilopochtli and Tlaloc: Panquetzaliztli**

Seventh day of the twelfth month of the solar year (12/7) - Beginning of Panquetzaliztli in Tenochtitlán, capital of the Aztec Empire (Present-day: Mexico City, Mexico)

 

Gabriel wakes with the sun.

It is not a particularly meaningful accomplishment - he IS the sun.

And truthfully, it’s not like he really _sleeps_ either.  The concept of sleep is limited primarily to complex organisms whose nervous systems require “being powered down” for certain amounts of time to rest their neural firings and process their information uptake.  A minute percentage of the beings on this planet require sleep, since the vast majority of them are tiny, miniscule … things that like to wiggle around and coat everything in their existence.  Although Gabriel doesn’t really begrudge them for that, since, you know -

The sun’s light does something similar, touching anything and everything it can get its warm, bright sunbeams on.

So even though Gabriel doesn’t really need _sleep_ \- how the fuck does a star even shut off its consciousness? - he does find the act of shutting his eyes and letting his consciousness drift among his planets to be relaxing.  Occasionally.  Periodically.

Well, okay, no, not really.

He does it because after nearly four billions years of being around a certain _someone_ who does enjoy the act of shutting his eyes and letting his consciousness drift, Gabriel unfortunately picked up the same habit.  Because when you’re lying adrift in the Eoarchean ocean with the embodiment of that very same Eoarchean ocean resting on your chest, there’s really not much else you can do but shut your eyes and pretend to sleep.

Which has, somehow, against all odds -

Without him knowing it, without him meaning to -

Nearly four billion years later -

Led to this moment:

With Gabriel “waking” to faintly lit red and gold and amber-painted stucco walls and ceilings, the first rays of his own light brushing against the paint and his dark skin as it drifts in through columns of stone and cut windows framed with red paper banners.  He blinks a few times lazily, before shifting slowly in his low-lying “bed” (really it’s a long platform at the base of his idol statue) and glancing about the rest of the room.

It’s not a terribly large building - more of a small, two-room shrine, really, and while the Egyptians had built a fucking city in his honor, it’s not size that moves a star like him.  The beauty of the shrine is just as impressive to him as any city under the sun.  And the Mexica are _constantly_ working on it - he swears that just a few decades ago this place was half this size and composed almost entirely out of wood and clay.  And once they wised up and realized wood and clay were pretty easily destroyed, they set out making this version of the _Huēyi Teōcalli_ out of stone and mortar and stucco instead.

So you know, A for effort, betterment, and self-improvement.  Gabriel values that in mortals more than he cares about the size of their places of worship.

The inside of the main room of the shrine is already decorated - its red and gold and amber walls are covered: bark-paper banners of red and gold and amber, with jade-green hummingbird feathers and ruby-red amaranth stalks stitched into them, flutter with the soft breeze that curls through the windows and hall.  Even more strands of amaranth, clustered into bundles of small red flowers, and cotton ribbons, their colors red-green-gold woven together into intricate patterns, line the rest of the walls.  All the decorations give the sensation that the shrine is not actually composed of stone and mortar and stucco, but built of hanging flowers and feathers, ribbons and banners, all of them moving and shifting with both the wind and the soft brushstrokes of dawn.

Even this early in the morning, the red amaranth calls the hummingbirds to his halls.

_[“...Those who had died in the war, then...changed into precious birds - hummingbird, orioles, yellow birds, yellow birds blackened about the eyes, chalky butterflies, feather down butterflies, gourd bowl butterflies; they sucked honey [from the flowers] there where they dwelt.” - Sahagún]_

They flitter and flutter about in the air, the gentle dawn glinting emerald green off their humming wings, darting to and fro in their characteristic flanking patterns.  With how dim the early lighting is, Gabriel finds it difficult to distinguish which ones are actual, physical, corporeal hummingbirds and which ones are the warrior spirits that function as his servants here in the _Huēyi Teōcalli_.  Usually, when the lighting is better, or even when the night itself has settled into the region, he can find the spirit hummingbirds by their unique green glows - they burn with their own small internal sunsouls, small chips of jade greatness woven from his own radiation of 495–570 nm wavelength, 526–606 THz frequency, and 2.17–2.50 eV photon energy - the color green itself.  But here, in the early dawn, even one as omniscient as himself struggles to tell, watching them with an easy gaze as they poke their long beaks into the amaranth clusters, drinking in their own sweet nectar breakfast before he even gets a chance at his.

Fucking assholes.

Can’t even wait for their god to get up.

Gabriel just chuckles to himself.  He can’t bring himself to really be angry with the little punks - they’re as industrious as the Mexica humans, constantly humming and flittering and fluttering about looking for more food, more energy, more life to drink.  Truthfully, the sun god likes avian creatures of all kinds - many human cultures associate the high drift of his sun in their planet’s skies with the high drift of birds, but the majority seem to associate the power and energy with more...fearsome species, like eagles and falcons and hawks (on extremely rare occasions, vultures, owls, and ravens as well), but these people, the Mexica -

They liked to associate him with hummingbirds.

And that had been the belief of theirs that really caught his attention.

For fuck’s sake, he had sent them a standard eagle messenger with a fucking snake in its mouth about a really cool lake with fresh water for their wanderings, and somehow that had led to them claiming one of the islands, building pyramids of stone and mortar and stucco on it, and calling him “Left-handed hummingbird” instead.

The other gods might find being associated with the diminutive creatures to be insulting or even confusing but Gabriel found it _fucking beautiful_.

 _[As mentioned above, Sahagún wrote in the_ Florentine Codex _that...the souls of the dead became hummingbirds or butterflies.  Warriors, specifically, were transformed into_ huitzilopochtlis _(hummingbirds).  This was an apt symbol: there are over fifty species of this type of bird in Mexico. - Baquedano]_

And that had pretty much sealed him sticking around these parts for as long as he could without entirely shirking his duties to the rest of the Earth and the other planets.

It also amused him that the Mexica had largely separated his aspects into two beings though - Huitzilopochtli, solar god of war, and Tonatiuh, solar god of...the sun, but it wasn’t like they were totally unique in that - the Greeks and the Romans had done something similar, calling him Apollo and Ares or Mars and not totally realizing that he was pretty much both of them.  It didn’t bother Gabriel much.

He knew who he was.

He knew what he was made of.

The ever-shifting ideas and ideals of the mortals could not change that.

Gabriel turns his attention from the hummingbirds and the decorations to the long, low, mahogany (ooohh, imported, very classy) table set out before him: already covered in dishes and plates with heaps of good, mortal foods - roasted maize and cooked amaranth seeds, grilled venison and smoked fish, mashed squash and stewed beans, honey dripped and drizzled over everything, lit by small braziers and candles of red and gold and amber, flanked by steaming cups of frothed cacao, whipped into a foamy, bitter drink that could warm the stomach and the soul.

But his two favorite “foods” are missing.

Gabriel frowns to himself.

The food is ready, but the sacrifices have not started yet.

Figures.  It _is_ still dawn.

He yawns because even though he doesn’t really need sleep, the act of letting his consciousness drift amid oceans and stars does put him in a strange meditative state, and it can take him some time to pull himself back together again.  Gabriel scratches at an itch on the right side of his shaved head - so many human cultures liked to depict him with hair, even though he hasn’t had hair for billions of years now (many stars preferred not to fuss with their cosmetics and opted for styles that were low-maintenance, so they could focus on their cosmoses instead).

Then again, pretty much nothing topped being given a falcon head by those strange Egyptians.

Like, at least the Mexica portrayed him more like how he manifested himself than most cultures did - high, angular cheekbones and broad nose and dark hair and obsidian eyes, covered in scars and his dark, earth-brown skin.

That said, the Mexica also liked to put him in green and red facepaint, decorating him with hummingbird and quetzal feathers on his head and along his back and hanging off his left leg, in jade pendants and beads, in gold armor plates and bells, in obsidian face blades and mirrors, in liquid smoke and veridian pigment and blood.

And _holy fuck_ -

Gabriel was more than thrilled to embrace that imagery.

Even now, rising from his table-bed, he wears only the loin cloth and a small cotton waist wrap of red and green, belts of jade hummingbird feathers and jade beads and gold bells slung from his hips, companions to the bracelets of jade feathers and jade beads and gold bells and small obsidian disks on his wrists and ankles, companions still to the earrings and necklaces of jade feathers and jade beads and gold bells and obsidian points on his ears and neck -

His every movement is music.

His every movement is feathery.

His every movement is light.

His every movement is heat and radiance and even soft tendrils of smoke and blood.

His every movement is raw, terrible, brilliantly breathtaking power.

No goddamn Greek or Roman toga could compare, holy shit.

Even though this is the time of the Earth’s solar rotation when the northern hemisphere is angled away from his sun, Tenochtitlan is close enough to the equator that the weather is mild enough for him to forego the _tilmatli_ cape preferred by the Mexica men, and with another yawn, he slides off the bed, slipping on his sandals as he grabs the scepter resting by his hummingbird helmet on the bed’s side table.  Gabriel rolls the spear-scepter in his hands, admiring the curve of the wood and the jade, gold, obsidian, and rare turquoise inlaid into its twisting patterns and the knotted paper chains around it, before he pats the fanged, reptilian head with two gentle fingers burning with light.

The act wakes Xiuhcoatl from its sleep.

The wood transforms into warm scales and slowly-breathing ribcages upon ribcages, as the fire serpent hisses and yawns contentedly in his hands.  Its scales shift aqua-blue-green as it flares to life, with the dim dawn lighting and the small candle flames catching some of the obsidian and gold flakes rippling through the turquoise.  Its small pinfeathers at the joint of its head to its body and on the edge of its tail rustle as Xiuhcoatl winds up his left arm, seeking the warmth that Gabriel’s body radiates.  It settles its head blissfully on his shoulder and Gabriel chuckles at it, “You cannot be that cold - you’re fucking made out of fire.”

Xiuhcoatl just hisses back with sleepy annoyance.

Gabriel shuffles past the table laden with food and delicious smells and walks up to the large brazier at the center of the room.  It burns eternally with the long-lasting fire, a symbol of his spirit and his power, kept alive by the priests and the emperor and the sacrifices.

But seriously, where are the sacrifices.

He’s starting to get hungry.

Gabriel tisks to himself as he gently coaxes Xiuhcoatl off his arm and places him into the coals burning in the brazier - neither he nor the snake feel anything but mild warmth from the flames, and immediately the serpent hisses with happiness, slithering around the flaming coals and wood and amaranth petals until it settles itself contentedly, almost humming to itself in song.  The sun god just rolls his eyes at the snake’s dramatics and exits the main room to the atrium - decorated much like the main hall - and then out onto the main circular platform of the _Huēyi Teōcalli_ pyramid.

Gabriel has seen many spectacular, beautiful, brilliantly breathtaking cities over the millennia, but this one -

This one never fails to perfectly breathtaking to him.

For the Mexica had built their finest dual-city on an island on the edge of the vast, shimmering blue lake of Texcoco.

_[“During the morning, we arrived at a broad causeway and continued our march...and when we saw so many cities and villages built in the water and other great towns on dry land…”]_

From this height, Gabriel can see everything on the western side of the twin cities Tenochtitlán and Tlatelolco.  The streets and markets and buildings - built of stone and mortar and stucco and wood and clay - cover every part of the island, all the way down to the shallow waters of the lake and beyond - out _into_ the shimmering waters of the lake, where the Mexica have anchored floating gardens of maize and squash and bean vines and amaranth rows, where boats move in and out of floating markets and streets, moving along canals both natural and human-made.  Bridges connect the city to the gardens and to the surrounding islands - also covered in buildings and houses and tumbling markets.  People move under the dawn with feathery light movements and smokey music, already carrying their prayers and gifts and songs and paper banners for him, the priests organizing them about the central heart of the city.

_[“...We were amazed and said that it was like the enchantments they tell of in the legends of Amadis, on account of the great towers and buildings rising from the water and all built of masonry.”]_

The _Huēyi Teōcalli_ towers above all, rising tens of meters into the air, and his omniscience grants him the ability to know that it will only expand, only rise as future emperors and priests build upon it, making it better, making it greater than the previous version.  Here, now, the temple is only on its second version, but it is still larger than anything else around.  The city blossoms outwards from its central location on the island in the lake, its streets and pathways and canals moving first in the cardinal directions, and then branching off in rhythmic patterns, segmenting smaller and smaller and smaller.  

_[“And some of our soldiers even asked whether the things that were saw were not a dream.” - Fray Duran]_

The city is a constructed, brilliantly breathtaking, organized chaos on the surface of the shimmering water, weaving together light and stone and mortar and stucco with the jade storm lake and the red-gold-amber sunbeams of dawn.

The city is a beating heart - bleeding feathery light life and smokey music of gold bells and prayers of liquid thunderstorms - on the shallow, shimmering jade lake of their empire.

Gabriel’s omniscience has already shown him how it will fall.

And no, it won’t be in the way later humans will arrogantly assume - that a couple dozen men with swords and guns and horses will overwhelm the weak, cruel, haughty peoples of the region.  The ignorance and arrogance of forgetful humanity could make Gabriel laugh with despair sometimes.

No, their empire will fall as all empires do - from the inside out.  It did not need swords and guns and horses, but rather raw, terrible, brilliant tactics and critical thinking and a transformation of the mundane, ordinary political alliances into unique, extraordinary chaos.  It will fall when a quick-witted, vicious, ruthless conquistador, two interpreters loyal to themselves, and bitter, angry political rivals and tributary states among the Totonac and Tlaxcala crack and break the Aztec Empire from the inside.

Spain, being what it is, will take credit for it - just as the Gauls took credit for the fall of Rome, and how Britain will eventually take credit for the fall of the Qing Dynasty, and how the United States will take credit for the fall of the Soviet Union, and so on and so forth.

Because mortals - for all their damn lovable humanity and grace and smokey music of gold bells - are fucking _forgetful_ and _arrogant_ little shits.

Gabriel’s omniscience has already shown him how all empires fall.

But it -

It has not shown him how _his_ empire will fall.

Gabriel already knows _how_ he is supposed to fall - first to expand into a giant, and then to collapse in on himself as a white dwarf, and then to eventually lose all his heat and energy and fade into the dust of the void.  

But that is not what actually happens -

Because his omniscience suddenly stops - it suddenly fades into darkness - right about the year 2023, by the Judeo-Christian calendar most of the world will have adopted by then.

And all he will hear, as his consciousness fades into darkness -

Is a feminine voice whispering to him with exhausted happiness, “ _Gabriel, mijo, mijo -_ ”

He suspects he already knows what it means.

He is just terrified to say it aloud.

Because saying it out into the open will make it _real_ , will make it _true_ and he -

“Well, _fuck me_ , they’ve already started Panquetzaliztli?” a voice - filled with the deep rumbling of thunderstorms sleeping beneath hills and the soft light amusement of sunshowers, achingly familiar and annoyingly beautiful all at once - laughs to his right and Gabriel -

If he says it out into the open -

If he says to the city of bleeding feathery light life and smokey music of gold bells and prayers of liquid thunderstorms sitting on the shallow, shimmering jade lake -

The darkness will consume him.

Gabriel glances to his right.

Because it’s not _only_ his shrine on the top of the _Huēyi Teōcalli_ -

In time, the Fray Duran would write of their temple:

_“These two gods were always meant to be together, since they were considered companions of equal power.”_

Huitzilopotchli’s shrine - and later his temple - sits on the south line of power, in the southern half of what the Mexica consider the center of their empire, anchored to this point in the world in a constant dancing spiral with the northern shrine - later the northern temple - that sits on the north line of power, in the northern half of the center of the empire -

Anchored to their dance -

A dance nearly four billion years old -

Like the sun’s reflection on the shallow, shimmering jade water -

Like the refractions of light through drizzling raindrops -

Like swirling sunbeams and stormclouds -

Gabriel looks to his right, to his northern half, to his companion of equal power -

And comes face to face with a goggle-eyed, turquoise and jade mask with a ridiculous stare and huge dramatic jaguar fangs jutting out from the wide, shit-eating grin plastered onto it.

“HOLY FUCK,” Gabriel shouts, jumping back a little and putting his fists up into a fighting stance automatically and the mask -

The mask tilts its head back and _howls_ with laughter.

It rolls with a full-bodied laughter, head and shoulders shaking loosely, tossing about like a ship in a gale, as the thunderstorms that sleep beneath the hills rumble out of its broad, gold-tinted chest, and it sounds -

It sounds like the pleasant rumbling of thunder clouds in the distance, like the promise of a summer rain, like the rhythmic beating of waves upon a shore - it crackles with tension and electricity and the unfathomable depth of the oceans.

Even after nearly four billion years -

It is still the most incredible sound Gabriel has ever heard.

It is also one of the most fucking _frustrating_ sounds Gabriel has ever heard.

“God fucking _dammit_ , jackass,” Gabriel snaps at him as the mask’s laughter slowly churns into a stormy giggle instead and Gabriel huffs, “You know I fucking hate that mask.”

“I like it,” the voice comes back muffled by jade and turquoise inlaid into ceramic, “Makes me feel cool and mysterious.”

“You look _ridiculous_.”

“Looked in a mirror lately?” the man behind the mask chuckles, his broad hands moving to his Tlaloc visage to remove the headpiece.  When he pulls it off, his gorgeous face - also high cheekbones and a rough-cut jawline and eyes dark and submerged and deeply blue, so blue - blue as the shallow, shimmering jade water, blue as oceans covering the planet, blue as rivers that wind through thunderstorm-laden hills -

His brilliant face beams at Gabriel with a wide shit-eating grin, like he just pulled off some clever masterful tactic and not a prank a child could do.

The humans call him many names - as many names as they have for the Sun God.  Here, they call him Tlaloc or Chaac, yet the Greeks and Romans called him Poseidon or Neptune  They call him the Dragon King in the far east of the planet, or Sobek near the Nile.  They call him Tangaroa among the scattered islands of the calm ocean, or the Rain Bird far to the north of Tenochtitlan.  They call him Varuna where the calm ocean meets the small ocean, and they call him the Leviathan among the peoples who roam the middle of the Eurasian supercontinent.

But to the sunlight dancing across shallow, shimmering jade water -

To the refractions of light through drizzling raindrops -

To the swirling sunbeams and stormclouds -

To his southern half, anchored together in this point in the world, drifting across the Eoarchean ocean -

To Gabriel -

He is called Jack.

… And also “jackass.”

“Seriously, why don’t you just put on a chicken suit and be done with it?” Jack smirks at him, “You already have so many feathers on you.”

“Like you’re any different,” Gabriel grumbles, though he doesn’t really mean it.  Jack is dressed similarly to him: a simple blue-green loincloth covered by a blue-green waist wrap, belts of jade and turquoise and pearls and seashells dangling around his waist, companions to the bracelets of jade and turquoise and pearls and seashells around his wrists and ankles, a large carved abalone pendant hanging from his neck graced by marigolds.  Like Gabriel, he has foregone his blue-heron-feathered headdress for nothing, his gold-blonde hair fluffing with the slight breeze, but he still has heron feathers hanging from his ears and from one of his belts.

And yet -

Despite his human form, there is something...otherworldly about him.  Something dark and submerged and deeply ethereal, something that points to his status as an elder being.  His skin, pale but sun-kissed, has soft, shallow, shimmering jade tints in the small corners - along the shells of his ears, dusting his collarbones, on the tips of his fingers - and when Gabriel looks close enough, his eyes see jade-turquoise scales when the light hits him just right.

Jack smirks back at him, eyes flashing like lightning and jaguar fangs, and he taunts, “Chickens aren’t seabirds, Gabi.”

“...The dodo,” Gabriel retorts and Jack waves him off with, “That’s a flightless pigeon.”

Gabriel just kinda shrugs and nods with, “Forgot about that.”  Jack glances up at the hummingbirds flittering and fluttering around the amaranth-laden entrance of the shrine before teasing him, “Spend too much time with the hummingbirds and your brain will shrink to their size.”

“Need I remind you that I am about one-hundred-and-ten times larger than this damn planet?” Gabriel growls at him and Jack just laughs lightly, sauntering over to him before he leans himself on Gabriel’s right shoulder, murmuring warmly, “Oh, I know you’re _large_ , alright,” while tracing cool fingertips over his arm in slow, soft, sensual motions and -

“God dammit, Jack,” Gabriel groans as the mere feeling of him churns something dark and bittersweet and smokey inside him, “Can you at least wait until the first rites are over?  Also, where have you been?  They started bringing shit into the shrine last night.”

“Hmmm, I watched to watch the construction of Zheng He’s ships,” Jack mutters, and Gabriel rolls his eyes to himself as the two of them watch the worshippers move through the central square, offering goods and prayers to the priests organizing the event below.

“You’re obsessed,” Gabriel sighs and Jack chuckles slightly, saying, “It’s going to be an amazing voyage, Gabi - or rather, an _a-MEI-zing_ voyage -”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Gabriel groans at the terrible pun and Jack laughs again, that brilliantly breathtaking sound ringing through Gabriel like a bell.  Gabriel can practically hear the lunar goddess Chang’e - or Mei, as the other gods know her - clap her hands and laugh at Jack’s horrific joke.  Gabriel got along with her just fine, better than he did with many of the division gods, but _holy hell_ , her sense of humor could be downright _tragic_ sometimes.  Gabriel rubs his left hand to his face, muttering, “You gotta stop spending time with her.  These jokes are shit.”

“Never,” Jack says lightly, “Mei and I are dedicated to the art of a good pun.”

“Fucking hell, that wasn’t even a good one -”

Gabriel pauses and even Jack’s laughter slows.

Because down in the square, the procession has finally arrived.

_[“People attended with their tribute of gold, jewels, finery, feathers and precious stones, all of the highest value and in great quantities...so many riches that they could not be counted or valued.”]_

The two gods watch in silence as the new group of people move through the citizens and into the central square proper.  Mexica warriors and priests flank the line of prisoners - warriors from other tribes caught in a recent skirmish - and direct them to the steep temple steps as the common people cheer and chant and sing.  At the head of the procession, flanked by his four advisors, is the young king or _Tlatoani_ of Tenochtitlan himself, Huitzilihuitl -

A boy of eight years old.

Gabriel scowls as Jack murmurs bittersweetly, “Such a heavy burden.”

“The unfortunate price of being king,” Gabriel replies, watching as the procession climbs the steps to the main temple platform where they’re standing.  The platform is a massive, round slab of stone, with tiles and reliefs depicting symbols of the sun, warriors, and death across it - the Cuauhxicalco of this current phase of the _Huēyi Teōcalli_ , consecrated a few years ago when the temple had finalized its second stage of construction, moving from wood and clay to stone and mortar and stucco.

It was where they had burned the body of Acamapichtli, the boy-king Huitzilihuitl’s father, upon his passing -

Where they had offered his body and soul to Gabriel.

And Gabriel had accepted it - drinking the life and death of his soul orb, while shredding off a piece of it to transform it into a small chip of jade greatness woven with green light, watching it shift into a spirit hummingbird even as he consumed the soul of its original owner.

The humans cannot see them, but on this sacred ground, hallowed by blood and water, bone and maize, smoke and storm, amaranth and marigolds -

Perhaps they can sense them, just a little, in the soft sunbeams of dawn over the city of shallow, shimmering jade water.

Gabriel and Jack do not flinch as the priests move outwards, setting down large braziers and stone and alabaster containers.  The Mexica warriors prod and poke the captive prisoners into kneeling positions over the containers and Gabriel can feel something dark and bittersweet and smokey stir inside him at the closeness of their lives -

And their deaths.

Huitzilihuitl - still so small, yet somehow maintaining his regality - begins to speak in high, clear tones as the light and the wind carry his words down to the people below.  His advisors first drink from their vessels, and then begin to pour _iztāc octli_ \- pulque, the Spanish would incorrectly call it later - across the ceremonial platform, the sour, milky, maguey alcohol running down the cracks and spilling down the stairs.  Still leaning on him, Jack bites at his lower lip and Gabriel chuckles, “Someone’s anxious.”

“Haven’t had a good breakfast in a while,” Jack mutters dryly and Gabriel glances at him skeptically, saying in monotone, “You drown people all the time.”

“It’s not the same as a ritual,” Jack says, before adding, “Plus I let the fish have first dibs.”

“How generous of you,” Gabriel sighs, returning his gaze to the boy-king.  Huitzilihuitl ends his speech and raises his right hand - the obsidian point glinting briefly in the sun - before he drives the blade into his right earlobe, ripping at the small flesh and flicking off the blood into the rivulets of alcohol at his feet.  Below them, the people cheer and sing and pray -

The life contained in the blood draws Gabriel’s sunsoul closer, closer - tugging his dark and bittersweet and smokey ache to the humans before him -

The head priest says something loud and sharp and clear across the sunlit dawn of heaven, the organized chaos of earth, and the shallow, shimmering jade water, and on cue -

The Mexica warriors lean down and slit the throats of the prisoners.

_[“All this was done to show off magnificence and lordship in front of their enemies, guests, and strangers, and to instil fear and dread.” - Friar Duran]_

Gabriel and Jack watch impassively as they shudder and flail, as the Mexica warriors hold their heads back to let their blood - the liquid of life itself - drain into their containers, and the dark, bittersweet, smokey energy of nuclear fusion pulses through Gabriel’s sunsoul as he watches the red-gold-amber strands swirl and condense above the prisoners into soul orbs, burning and flickering with the taste of life and death, death and life -

One of his favorite foods.

Gabriel shrugs himself out of Jack’s leaning embrace and steps towards the first one, saying solemnly:

“Death becomes you, death comes for all.  As the light consumes you, I grow stronger.”

Smoke swirls into his hand and solidifies into a dark, bittersweet, smokey obsidian dagger.  Gabriel stares down at the first orb, murmuring in a dark, bittersweet, smokey tone:

“Your soul is mine.”

He draws the orb to himself and - with a flash - cuts off a piece.  He drinks down the red-gold-amber strands of life and death, death and life as the obsidian blade turns the small fragment green, and a second later, a spirit hummingbird takes off in the air.  The life and death, death and life burn into his spirit, his sunsoul consuming the power and flaring up with renewed fusion.

_[The third destination of the souls of the dead was in the heavens, in the dwelling of the Sun, Tonatiuh Ilhuicac.  This was considered a place of glory - “a place of wealth, a place of joy.”  The ones chosen for this heaven were those who died in battle, captives who had died at the hands of their enemies, and sacrificial victims.  In the house of the Sun, they rejoiced forever. - Baquedano]_

Much like sleep, Gabriel doesn’t really need to consume the souls.

But he finds it _important_.

Important to accept the life and death, death and life of those who worship him.

Important to bond himself to the spirits of humanity.

Important because -

_“Gabriel, mijo, mijo -”_

Because someday, it will be important.

Behind him, Jack snorts, “Always so fucking dramatic.”

“This is serious shit, jackass,” Gabriel snaps at him, moving to the next orb and repeating the process, “People die for this shit -”

“I’m not talking about them, Gabi - I’m talking about you.”

Gabriel scowls at him, muttering, “I’m giving it the gravity it deserves.”

Jack makes a skeptical face and then points to a spirit hummingbird.

“...They’re fast little jerks, they move unpredictably, they move like lightning,” Gabriel explains, heading to the third orb as the songs and prayers begin again, each of his movements tinkling with the sound of bells and jade pieces clinking together.  Gabriel draws in the third orb, crafting a hummingbird out of a piece of the soul, before continuing, “All the peoples of this region believe that warriors should behave like hummingbirds - fast, unpredictable, striking like lightning -”

“And they’re cute,” Jack teases him lightly, stepping in line with him.  Gabriel makes a face before sighing, “Yeah, okay, and they’re cute.”  Gabriel then gestures to some of the remaining soul orbs, offering, “You want some?”

“Hmm,” Jack hums, looking up and down the rows of soul orbs as the Mexica warriors and priests begin to collect the prisoners’ bodies for consecration.  Jack suddenly flashes him a mischievous smirk, whispering with dark, submerged, deep ease, “Feed me?”

“...God fucking _dammit_ , Jack,” Gabriel growls, feeling pissed off at himself for being so into the way the Water God’s voice rolls like thunder and the way his smile flashes like lightning, and the Sun God points an accusatory finger at him, muttering, “It’s way too fucking earlier in the day for you to be starting this shit, especially in public.”

“Like they can even fucking see it,” Jack pouts slightly but when Gabriel’s scowl doesn’t change, Jack just sighs, flicking out his right hand.  There’s an electric, pulsing shiver that rivers through the air, and then the moisture in the surrounding atmosphere condenses into his hand, the ribbons of water spreading long and thin, curved like lightning and golden like he’s captured droplets of sunshine, filled with the nectar of life itself -

Water.

Jack moves to the next orb, touching it gently with his left hand and the orb seems to tremble under his fingertips before it splits into two.  Jack absorbs the left one, while the right one shifts into shallow, shimmering jade water and joins the dewy sunshine liquid in the lightning staff.

To be returned to water -

The source of all life.

_[The second destination of the dead was the Tlalocan, the “earthly paradise.”  Here, there was “great wealth, there were great riches.  Never did one suffer.  Never did the ears of green maize, the gourds, the squash blossoms, the heads of amaranth, the green chilis, the tomatoes, the green beans, the cempoalxochitl, fail.  And there dwelt the Tlalocs.”  This pleasant destiny befell those chosen by Tlaloc, the Rain God. … “In the place of the fleshless, in the house of the quetzal plumes, there is a transformation of what belongs to the one who restores people to life.” - Baquedano]_

Together, they make quick work of the rest of the meal, alternating between turning the orbs into sunshine and hummingbirds, and water and liquid light, as more priests and warriors begin to build a pyre for the deceased.

Finally, when they’re done with the first round of breakfast, Jack turns to him with that charming, wicked, powerful smirk, asking quietly, “Are you going to enjoy me next, my strong, handsome, _large_ sun?”

Gabriel’s patience snaps.

“You know what they say about playing with fire,” Gabriel growls at him, stepping right up into his space as those dark, submerged, deep sea eyes draw him in and drown him.  The Sun God wraps his hands around the Water God’s waist, smirking into that golden face, “You’re going to get burned.”

Jack bites his lower lip and flicks his gaze at Gabriel chest before slowly dragging his eyes back up to the Sun God’s face, and _fuck_ , Gabriel feels his energy rush straight to his cock at the motion.

“Good thing I like the heat,” Jack murmurs in a dark, submerged, deep tone, before pressing his lips to Gabriel’s and -

They melt into a single moment of light on water and water reflecting light.

They are watery warmth, rivers of radiance -

Forces of nature so powerful not even the fury of the stars could stop them.

Although they had certainly tried.

Gabriel’s siblings had been _furious_ that he was willing to protect and defend life on his little, rocky, wet, atmospheric planet - life was destruction, life was power, life was entropy that no force in the universe could stop or control.  Gabriel toyed with the death of entire galaxies when he had told the rest of the Milky Way that he would continue to sustain and shield life itself, and the rest of the star cohort had risen in true, unmitigated anger.

And that was when Gabriel had taken on his secondary god attribute:

The God of War.

Armed with Xiuhcoatl and Helios chariot, armed with ankh and Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, Gabriel had fought off waves upon waves of stars.  He had forced them back, back to their branches, back to their proper places, away from his piece of the galaxy, away from his kingdom, where he would cultivate life and all that it generated - both good and evil, both creation and destruction, both humanity and arrogance.

_[Huitzilopochtli is seen as the sun in mythology, while his many male siblings are perceived as the stars and his sister as the moon. In the Aztec worldview, this is the reason why the Sun is constantly chasing the Moon and stars. It is also why it was so important to provide tribute and thus sustenance for Huitzilopochtli, and thus the sun. If Huitzilopochtli did not have enough strength to battle his siblings, they would destroy their mother and thus the world.]_

At first, the stars had mocked him for the sheer fucking _ridiculousness_ of a single young G-type main sequence star of the G2V spectral class challenging them - all to defend a single little rocky, wet, atmospheric planet - all on his own -

But the looks on their faces when the other gods had appeared out of the clouds of space dust -

_Fucking worth it._

His greatest allies - the Water God, the Sky God, the Thunder God, and the Builder - had joined him at the edges of the solar system and followed his lead, laying waste to the armies of gravity and fusion that had threatened to destroy them.

But they had not faltered.

And as humanity - feeble and weak and arrogant but small, so small, its beauty as fragile as glass - had grown in its beliefs, so too had the number of gods in his pantheon: heroes and tricksters, healers and warriors, soldiers and adventurers.  Despite differences in belief, or differences in morality, or even just differences in general, all of them had been willing to protect the world that had created them -

Created them from the power of life itself.

They had beaten back the stars, pushed them back to their systems, where they would stay put for as long as Gabriel and his army ruled his planets -

A reign that would end in a few short centuries.

It had been a choice Gabriel had made willingly.

He had watched as the lines of the future - threads of light that connected him to endless possibilities, to endless futures - had died away, one by one, with every battle he fought, the angles and mirrors of his omniscience shattering and disintegrating, until there was only one line, one thread left to follow.

One that ended in darkness -

But here, now -

With Jack’s dark, submerged, deep warmth pressing back against his, melting and drifting into him like swirling sunbeams and stormclouds -

Gabriel would make that choice again, and again, and again -

In every life he could live.

Jack nips slowly, softly, sensually at Gabriel’s bottom lip, causing Gabriel to groan with desire, his energy churning inside him like a current, and the low noise of aching _want_ gets Jack to smile in self-satisfaction against him before he deepens the kiss again, pushing back into Gabriel hard and hot and _hasty_ -

The Sun God pushes back -

And also starts trying to push him into his shrine.

Because seriously, even if the people can’t see them, he’s not about to go fucking his companion god next to a giant pile of burning bodies.

The problem, of course, is that Jack never wants to be fucking _cooperative_ about this shit.

The Water God clings to him, running his hands over Gabriel’s shoulders, his lower back, even toying with the decorative belts around his waist, all while he continues to kiss and nip at Gabriel’s lips, his jawline, the cut of his beard, murmuring tantalizing, heated whispers into his skin:

“C’mon, Gabi, c’mon - warm me up, make me hot, Gabriel, I want you, I need you to fill me up, I’ve missed you -”

“Maybe if you weren’t hanging out with the goddamn Yongle Emperor and his shiny boats you wouldn’t miss me so much,” Gabriel growls back against him, but every word from Jack slips under his skin and into his bloodstream as easily as water, as easily as liquid life, churning that building river of energy and _aching need_ inside him as steadily as a whirlpool - he’s trying his damnedest to get them inside, pushing them into the atrium as he groans, “And would you fucking walk?”

“Why should I when I have my strong, handsome, _large_ sun here to carry me?” Jack chuckles teasingly to him, kissing into the crook of his jaw, sending shivers of pleasure down Gabriel’s back and straight to his stiffening cock.  Even though his desire to be submerged into Jack’s depths grows, he manages to force himself to snap, “Because then we would be fucking _faster_ at this, asshole.”

“Oh, Gabi, there’s no need to rush -”

“You’ve been basically _begging_ for this all morning!”

“You think that’s begging?” Jack laughs darkly, leaning back to flash a charming, smug grin at Gabriel and _holy fuck_ , Jack should not have this fucking _power_ over him, he’s a goddamn star, water on some petty little planet should not be able to _influence_ him so much but -

“Let me show you how I beg, Gabriel,” Jack says slowly, softly, sensually against his lips and Gabriel’s willpower fucking _evaporates_ -

“My lord Chaac.”

The cool feminine voice, in quadruplicate, drips out of the main room like the whisperings of shadows and both gods - despite being tangled around each other - freeze at the deadly chill in her voices.  After detangling their consciousnesses from the fog of lust around them, Gabriel groans, dropping his head onto Jack’s shoulder as Jack chuckles awkwardly, “Bacab.”

“...It seems I’m interrupting something,” she says smugly as her four voices unify into a single entity.  The two gods glance at the long, low table set with food where the woman appears seemingly out of thin air.  She’s sitting on one of the small cushions on the floor, her back to the entrance, as her white-yellow-red-black colors suddenly blur together into existence, shifting to her preferred purple-blue tones.  Her earthstone skin glitters under the mix of candlelight and drifting sunlight, her dark hair dyed amethyst at the ends, and her eyes - bright and shimmering like cenotes in the darkness - gaze over them with a look full of mischief.  She reaches a long set of fingers into the honey-baked amaranth seeds and pops several of them in her mouth -

“That’s my fucking food, _conetl,_ ” Gabriel snaps at her, and she just gives him a wicked smirk, murmuring, “Ah, apologies, _tahtli_ Sun - may I have some of your food?”

“No.”

She takes another handful anyways, throwing the seeds into her mouth.

“You little shit,” Gabriel starts to seeth, but Jack just pats him patiently while sighing to her, “What do you want, Sombra?”

“Nothing, my lord,” Sombra chuckles, reaching for one of the cacao drinks as Gabriel groans.  Jack slowly, reluctantly pulls away from him and takes a spot on one of the seat cushions across from his helper god.  A second later, and still torn between hauling Jack off to his bed or yelling at Sombra to stop stealing his breakfast, Gabriel plops himself on a seat cushion to the right of Jack, his characteristic scowl marring his face.

Jack levels a firm gaze at her before saying honestly, “Cut the crap, Sombra, why are you here?”

“What, I can’t celebrate Panquetzaliztli with you two?” Sombra asks, before taking a sip from the cacao and Jack just chuckles lightly, “You could at least come in through the front door.”

“Maybe for your shrine,” Gabriel grumbles at him before grabbing one of the pieces of venison and ripping off a bite-sized chunk.  He tosses the bit into his mouth before gesturing to Sombra, “Here in my shrine, I expect guests to introduce themselves.”

“Ay, c’mon, Gabriel, we’re well past that by now,” Sombra says cheerfully, grinning at him, “We’re practically family here.”

“Oh my god, if you’ve invited Coyotl over this early in the morning, you’re in deep shit,” Gabriel groans as Jack brightens a little, saying, “Did you invite Jesse?”

“Don’t encourage her!”

“Sorry, Jack, I did not,” Sombra says with fake apologism, “But I _maaaaay_ give him the head’s up that if he wants to show up this month he should bring gifts.”

“He should bring gifts anyways!” Gabriel says, “All the shit I do for him - damn ingrate, always trying to play his tricks and get one over on me.  The Mexica pay his people good shit for that damn turquoise - do you know what I had to do to secure that silver mine in the north all for trade with the Puebloans and Diné?”

“Let me guess,” Jack asks with wry humor, “The Mexica killed a bunch of people for it and incorporated the tribe into their empire?”

“What a power move,” Sombra chuckles, “What a genius tactic.”

_[...Turquoise in Aztec Mexico was transported over huge distances - some pieces were mined more than a thousand miles from the capital Tenochtitlán, now Mexico City.  Goods like turquoise and the shells and resin were traded widely across the region, but it is more likely that the components of our serpent were forcibly exacted as tribute - compulsory levies from peoples whom the Aztecs had conquered. - MacGregor]_

“Oh my god, I do NOT need both of you here at the asscrack of dawn,” Gabriel snaps before reaching for a cup of pulque.  Jack gives him a deadpan look, muttering, “But it’s never too early to start getting drunk, huh?”

 _I need to get at least buzzed so I don’t jump your sweet ass_ , Gabriel thinks before taking a gulp from the sharp, sour milk alcohol, but instead he finishes his drink with a sharp, sour remark, “It’s my goddamn vacation - I can do what I want.”

“You’re the sun - you don’t get a vacation,” Sombra mutters and Gabriel shoots her another glare before she levels her gaze to Jack, saying with a touch more seriousness, “It’s almost time for the Mayan rain rituals.”

Jack makes a face as sour as the pulque.

“Don’t look like that - they’re hard on me too,” Sombra mutters, taking another drink of cacao, and Jack sighs, “ _Atemoztli_ begins here next month too.”

“You’re gonna be busy,” Gabriel mutters, throwing more venison in his mouth and Jack rubs at his forehead, saying, “And Zheng He is going to ship out in the third lunar month next year.”

“Are you involved in that?” Sombra asks with a raised eyebrow and Gabriel smirks at her, saying, “You know him - he’s involved in everything.  Once he finds a pet project, he sticks to it.”

“You know,” Sombra says slyly, looking at Jack with a knowing smile, “I wouldn’t put it past the demons of Japan to try and fuck with that voyage.”

Gabriel scowls, asking, “How in the hell do you know that?  Aren’t you like, exclusively a god around here?”

“Ay, Gabi, my information network runs _deep_ ,” Sombra chuckles, and for a second it looks like a skull flashes across her face, and Gabriel glares, muttering darkly, “Whispering to spiders again?”

“They don’t call it the world wide web for nothing!” Sombra states boldly and Jack laughs at the pun while Gabriel groans, “This is exactly why you two should never be in the same room together.”

“Aaaaaanyways,” Sombra chuckles, munching on more amaranth seed, “I just stopped by to wish you a happy month, Gabriel, and say hello to Jack since he’s finally around and not ogling those new Ming ships with Mei.”  Sombra rises from her seat, stretching exaggeratedly and sighing dramatically, “Guess I’ll go steal someone else’s food.”

“You’re always welcome to my shrine, _conetl_ ,” Jack says to her cheerfully before looking pointedly at Gabriel.  The Sun God makes a face before the Water God quirks an expectant eyebrow at him, causing Gabriel to grumble, “You’re sometimes welcome to mine.”

Sombra shrugs, “Good enough for me!”  She gives them a twirl of her fingers before blurring back out to white-yellow-red-black and then fading into invisibility to return to her cenotes in the south.

Gabriel stares long and hard at the air where she used to be, as Jack finally helps himself to some smoked fish and a roasted ear of maize, both his specialty foods in the region.

“She’s definitely up to something,” Gabriel mutters and Jack shrugs loosely, mumbling between bites of fish, “She’s always up to something.”

“She’s been hanging out with Mictecacihuatl or Persephone or whatever Amélie is calling herself these days.  They’re trying to get you to fight the Japanese spirits or some shit,” Gabriel says mainly to himself, “But I don’t know WHY you’d want to - the island has its isolation policy goin’ on.”

“They’ll try to invade the Korean peninsula,” Jack says matter-of-factly and Gabriel says with some confusion, “That won’t happen for another two centuries though.  And Hana is there.  That can’t be why Sombra wants you to fight them.”

“It does not matter why or why not - if they choose to interfere with Zheng He’s voyage,” Jack says with the sudden intensity of a thunderstorm, voice rolling with heavy raindrops and plasma pulses, “I’ll remind them why I’m called the Dragon King.”

The dark, submerged, deeply authoritative voice sends shivers across Gabriel’s back and his energy ripples straight to his cock.

“...How about you come over here and claim your throne?” Gabriel grins at him, leaning back on his hands so his bare chest, torso, and hips are exposed to Jack’s sight.  The Water God pauses before licking the oils off his fingers slowly, softly, sensually, his eyes rolling over Gabriel’s body like clouds through the sky -

“...It is my favorite place to sit,” Jack murmurs with languid lust and Gabriel shudders with soft pleasure as the Water God leans up against him, dragging slow, soft, sensual fingers up the muscles of Gabriel’s stomach, his touch warm like sunlit water -

Jack presses a slow, soft, sensual kiss into Gabriel’s neck with deepening need and welling ache and -

“GABRIEL,” a hawkish feminine voice calls through the halls and the Sun God nearly screams at the interruption, even as Jack chuckles fondly into the side of his throat, Gabriel can practically feel the sunshine in his smile -

“Gabriel!” another feminine voice calls as well, but hers is softer, gentler, followed by a gruff growl of a tone, “We brought ya some presents, ya damn flaming ball o’ gas.”

Jack leans away slightly as the two gods look up to see three figures enter the main hall.  The first - the one who spoke first - is a tall woman with tanned skin and black hair cut sharp enough to slice, dressed in a fierce blue and white falcon suit, thunderbird and fragments of Horus rolled into one deadly combination.  The woman next to her is slightly smaller, her blonde hair practically haloing around her head even with the winged headgear, dressed in leather skins stitched together.  And next to her, far shorter than the other two, is the stubborn fool of a blacksmith, clad in glinting red metals, his good eye squinting at them against the dimness of the room.

A thunderbird, Eir, and Brokkr - better known by the gods as Fareeha, Angela, and Torbjörn.

“...Are we interrupting something?” Angela asks with calm surprise as Fareeha scowls, “Rather early to be getting to this part of your festivities, isn’t it?”

“You must not know them very well, Fareeha,” Torbjörn grumbles, hefting something long and lean in his claw hand, “They are always up to some sort of trouble together -”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jack says cheerfully but Gabriel scowls at them, “I won’t.  It’s my vacation time.  I don’t want company right now.”

Angela clutches at her chest in mock offense while Fareeha rolls her eyes, but Torbjörn just shuffles over to the table and seats himself on one of the cushions, grumbling, “Do not be such a poor sport, Gabriel.  Here, have this.”  The Builder flicks the long piece of metal and wood over the table and after a pause, Gabriel sighs and pulls it closer, flipping it over in his hands as Jack looks at it curiously.

“A fucking hand cannon?” Gabriel mutters, “Why would you bring me a hand cannon?  The Ming have had this shit forever.”

Torbjörn scoffs as Fareeha and Angela seat themselves around the table too, Fareeha helping herself to the fish and Angela taking one of the cups of cacao.

“A hand cannon, he says - a bloody hand cannon,” Torbjörn mutters to himself before pointing one of his good fingers at Gabriel, “That’s a bloody arquebus right there.”

“...So a hand cannon with a hook.”

“Oh dear,” Angela murmurs while Fareeha groans, “Here we go again -”

“Listen here, you stubborn old asshole,” Torbjörn snaps at the Sun God, “That is NOT a hand cannon - that is a prototype arquebus, the very first of its kind!  It will pave the way for all guns that follow it - it will _revolutionize_ warfare as we know it!”

“Torb, I already know what guns will do,” Gabriel says dryly as Jack chuckles.  The Sun God sighs, “And technically the first guns were hand cannons and you made them like a century ago -”

“I do not be needin’ reminders o’ my own personal history, thank you very much,” the engineer scowls and Gabriel mutters, “You do need reminding because every time you invent something new, you always say it’s going to revolutionize something -”

“Because they usually do!”

“Invention is a process, not a step ladder,” Gabriel retorts, as Jack takes the arquebus from his hands.  Gabriel folds his arms and huffs, “You should know that better than anyone.”

“And I do!  And that is why I know how important this one is!” Torbjörn states, before giving Gabriel a mischievous smirk, “And I also know you rather well, Gabriel, and I know you will enjoy this gift more than you say you will.”

Gabriel already knows this.

Gabriel has already seen his own reactions to the slow, steady process of the invention of guns.

Gabriel already knows what chaos guns will bring to the world.

Gabriel has already seen the mountains of buffalo corpses, the long marches of tears, the massacres of people with nothing to defend themselves as Jesse watches with hollow, sunken eyes.

Gabriel has already seen the soul orbs blooming by the hundreds of thousands on the trench battlefields of Europe and Africa as Ana buries her head in her hands and Reinhardt places a large, shaking hand on her shoulders.

Gabriel has already seen how Angela will fall to her knees, sobbing openly as starved, beaten, frostbitten peoples will be shot en masse for wearing yellow stars.

Gabriel has already seen how Mei will vomit and Jack will scream over Nanjing and the flooded rivers of blood, as the dragon brothers shout at each other over their inability to change anything.

Gabriel already hates how much he will enjoy the feeling of a gun in his hands.

And in a few short centuries -

Only darkness awaits him

And the sounds of “ _Gabriel, mijo, mijo -_ ”.

Will she die to a gun too?  

He doubts it.

He is the God of War for a reason.

She will not die to a gun, because he will be the one carrying it.

He will use it on all who try to hurt her.

He does not know _why_ he will choose to forego his divinity for mortality -

But he suspects it will be for her, and for the world.

Even if the world does not deserve this choice.

Jack nudges him and Gabriel snaps out of his omniscience, muttering, “Thanks, Torb.”

Torbjörn looks at his solemn face, and a stern, knowing expression sets on the Builder’s features.

They both already know what will happen.

They may be gods, but they are powerless before the destructive chaos of life and death, death and life.

No force in the universe can stop it or control it.

The figures at the table are quiet and contemplative until Gabriel murmurs, “At least hand cannons shoot fireworks.”

“Oh for FUCK’S SAKE,” Torbjörn shouts, throwing his hand and claw into the air in exasperation, “There is just NO pleasing you,” as the rest of the group laughs at his exaggerated energy.  Gabriel just grins at him, chuckling, “You know I ask a lot from you because I expect the best.”

“And you will be getting the best, asshole!” Torbjörn snarks, “I do not cut corners on this!”

“That’s pretty evident,” Jack says, looking at the arquebus, “This is very high quality, Torb.”  The Builder frowns before grumbling, “Thank you.”  With a sigh, Torbjörn rises from his seat cushion and they all look at him in mild surprise, with Jack asking, “Leaving already?”

“I have so many projects to work on,” Torbjörn grunts, heading for the door, “Come see me in forty years when the Gutenberg printing press is done - then I can show you a _real_ revolution.”

Gabriel smirks because he already knows -

The creative chaos of life and death, death and life is just as powerful as their destructive chaos.

Gabriel has already seen what chaos the Gutenberg printing press will bring.

It may never fully balance out the chaos the gun will bring -

But perhaps, someday -

After the darkness has consumed him -

The scales of the balance will change.

The four of them watch as the Builder heads back out into the sunlight, and Fareeha sighs wistfully, “Why do you two always get the best toys first?”

“Elder god status,” Gabriel grunts and Jack says, “When you’re first and second in command, you get certain privileges.  Who knows, Fareeha - maybe someday you’ll get to be the first to try a cool new invention.”

“Not when there’s this waiting list, I won’t,” the falcon spirit moans before Angela says hastily, “Waiting list…?  Oh Himmel, I have to put a fever on Timur, oh gods, I am late!”

“Timur?” Jack asks her curiously, “You’re placing an illness on the Timurid Emperor?  Isn’t he preparing to attack Ming China?”

“I suppose you are rather happy about zat,” Angela mutters, downing the rest of the cacao drink before standing and adjusting the sword at her side.  She smiles at Jack, saying calmly, “I know you have such a fondness for ze Ming Dynasty.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Jack mutters tartly as Gabriel chuckles.  Fareeha joins Angela, saying to the valkyrie, “I’ll help you, dear.  I know it takes you some time to fly so far.”

“Thank you, love,” Angela says, linking her arm around the thunderbird’s offered elbow.  The valkyrie nods to the two gods, saying, “When you two are done with your time here, we will need to discuss how ze rest of the Hundred Years’ War shall progress.”

“Oh god,” Gabriel grumbles, making a disgusted face and Jack looks away guiltily as Angela chides them, “I _know_ you two have been avoiding the subject.”

“Just kill them all,” Gabriel mutters as Jack sighs, “I am so tired of watching European slapfights over thrones.  Just pick a side and we’ll follow you, Angela.”

“Now, now, I expect you two to give zhis ze zhought and duty it deserves,” the valkyrie intones on them and they both have enough tact to look reasonably embarrassed.  The two spirits wave to them as they head back to the shrine entrance.  Once they’re out of sight, Gabriel whines, “God, only ten more years until the Lancastrian War.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jack mutters, finally taking a sip from the pulque, “I’m basically gonna have to sit my ass over that stupid Channel and the Seine for forty years, what a joke.”

“You’re not gonna have to guide Jeanne just to watch her die in the end,” Gabriel says darkly but Jack just murmurs, “Why do you think I’m going to be there with you?  You think I’m gonna let you shoulder that alone?”

This quiets Gabriel as Jack drinks a little more from the pulque, setting the cup down on the table with a startling amount of force.  After a pause, Gabriel extends his left hand to Jack, saying softly, “...Thank you.”

Jack looks at him with some hesitancy before placing his right hand into Gabriel’s and lacing their fingers together tightly.  The Water God lifts their entwined hands to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to the Sun God’s fingers, murmuring against them, “I know you do not care for Europe right now -”

“The Crusades left a damn bitter taste in my mouth, as did the Black Death,” Gabriel says harshly as Jack continues to hold his hand, placing soft kisses on his knuckles and the back of his hand.  The Water God says coolly, calmly, “You do not have to carry that weight alone.  I am here, as are the others.”

“...I just don’t really get it,” Gabriel admits, “The monotheism thing.  The _fighting_ over the monotheism thing.  It was one thing when it was cults fighting in the name of different gods - but this?  It’s all the same god.”

“...Technically,” Jack mutters, “They’re all fighting over an interpretation of you.”

“That’s the insane part!” Gabriel nearly shouts, “They call everything by new names but they stick sun halos behind every figure and every being is bathed in light as if I can just… _become_ this being above all others.  They believe the monotheist god created the world!”

“Gabriel,” Jack says dryly, “You _did_ create the world.  And the rest of the planets.”

“I didn’t create you!” Gabriel says to him and Jack -

Jack just smiles behind their entwined hands, radiating light like shallow, shimmering jade water reflects the sun.

“You helped,” Jack laughs and Gabriel groans, “Not intentionally.  Those dumbass polymers were an accident.”

“You chose me over the stars.”

The words are brilliantly breathtaking.

The words set him adrift on the Eoarchean ocean of his memories, back when there was only sun and water and millions of billions of organic polymers in the depths.

Gabriel looks at Jack, obsidian eyes searching the dark, submerged, deep blues of his, as water -

As life itself -

Smiles at him, glowing as though the sunlight dances through him like light through the surface of a shallow, shimmering jade lake -

“I know that choice was not an accident,” Jack says to him serenely, and Gabriel sighs, “Why do I do this to myself?”

“We both know why,” Jack laughs - the sound is like the pleasant rumbling of thunder clouds in the distance, like the promise of a summer rain, like the rhythmic beating of waves upon a shore - and the Water God grins at him mischievously, saying, “And we both know you’d make the same choice again if you had to.”

Gabriel already knows this.

Gabriel already knows -

That he is weak to the creative and destructive chaoses of life -

That he has been weak to them for nearly four billion years -

That he has been weak to thunderstorm laughs and sunshower smiles and lightning teases and submerged taunts and the cool embrace that makes him feel like he’s drowning -

That the darkness will consume him -

But that he would make the same choice again.

Gabriel looks at Jack’s teasing grin and he smirks wryly, “I just know you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Mmm, then I’ll have won the challenge,” Jack chuckles as his kisses turn slow and soft and sensual and he nips lightly at Gabriel’s fingers.  Gabriel hums contentedly as the pleasure begins to build again inside him, churning up his desire and want and need - dark and bittersweet and smokey - _aching_ for the watery warmth that touches his fingers to be wrapped around him -

“Think you can fuck with the king, huh?” Gabriel asks in a lilting tone and Jack just rumbles against his skin, “I think I can fuck the king -”

“Howdy _’ashchíinii_ ,” says a dry, dusty tumbleweed of a voice through the door and -

“OH MY GOD,” Gabriel shouts as Jack snorts and starts laughing.  There’s the strong scent of tobacco and a soft breeze as the dry, dusty tumbleweed of a man stalks into the hallway, covered in little more than a cotton serape and a waist wrap.  Turkey vulture and raven feathers are woven into his windswept hair, turquoise beads and small pieces of adobe clanking off his belt.  He’s hefting a sack of something in his hands when his dark eyes suddenly pause over the two gods, stopping on their entwined hands up against Jack’s smirk -

“Am I, uh,” the coyote stammers, “Am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

“NO FUCKING SHIT,” Gabriel hollers at him as Jack grins, “Hello, _mąʼii_.”

“Shoot, hey, _Tó Neinilii_ ,” Jesse says, addressing Jack by his Diné name, “I, uh, I didn’t think ya’d be here too -”

“Just,” Gabriel groans, sinking his head into his right hand, “Just tell me what kinda trick you wanna sell me and then leave, Jesse.”

“Aw, shucks, _ataaʼ_ ,” Jesse chuckles, “Yer soundin’ awful cold for the first day of yer celebration.  Can’t a boy celebrate a happy day with his parents?”

“You didn’t even know Jack would be here,” Gabriel mutters into his hand as Jesse seats himself across the table and he holds out the sack.  Gabriel flicks a dark eye at it, but when he doesn’t move, Jack sighs and releases his hand to reach out and grab the bag.

“Hmm, feathers, some tobacco, buffalo horns, oooh!” Jack says excitedly, pulling out several large raw chunks of blue stones, “Turquoise!”

_[(The Aztecs) were a young and vigorous empire triumphantly in possession of territory and trading networks that ran from Texas in the north to Guatemala in the south and included the great bulk of modern Mexico.  They had a flourishing culture that produced elaborate works of art more precious to them than gold - turquoise mosaics. - MacGregor]_

And even though it is neither Jack’s shrine nor day, Jesse considers the fact that he took the bag to be a good enough sign that he starts digging into a piece of venison.  Gabriel sighs, wondering when the next round of sacrifices would be - he could use a little extra energy.

“Why are you here?”

“I told ya -” Jesse rumbles in between bites as Jack picks out more turquoise from the bag, holding up each stone to the light filtering in through the windows.  The coyote chews a big piece of venison slowly, savoring both the flavor and his words before he says, “I’m just here to talk.”

Gabriel’s about to open his mouth when Jack asks with dark amusement, “Is this about Zheng He’s voyage?”

 _["We have traversed more than 100,000 li of immense water spaces and have beheld in the ocean huge waves like mountains rising in the sky, and we have set eyes on barbarian regions far away hidden in a blue transparency of light vapors, while_ _our sails, loftily unfurled like clouds day and night, continued their course [as rapidly] as a star, traversing those savage waves as if we were treading a public thoroughfare" -Zheng He]_

Both Jesse and Gabriel look at the Water God in surprise, because Jack’s face is dark and submerged and deep in shadows of mischief and delight.  Jesse whistles low, “Damn, _ataaʼ_ , how’d you figure that?”

“Sombra isn’t the only one with a good information network,” Jack chuckles, but then he says pointedly, “Zheng He is not coming to this continent, Jesse.”

“Aww, dammit, Jack -”

“Zheng He is traveling south to the Hindu subcontinent and beyond,” Jack informs them and Gabriel blinks a few times before asking, “...And beyond?  You’re pushing your luck here, Jack.”

“No such thing as luck,” Jack states boldly, “Just knowing how to bend the rules.”

“Can’t ya maybe bend them, ya know, north?  Like to the Bering Strait?” Jesse asks with a small whine to his tone and Jack just shakes his head, saying, “Not even for this much turquoise, Jesse, sorry.  You can’t ask me to change that on such short notice - Zheng He sails next year.”

“Why are you and Sombra even interested in the damn expedition?” Gabriel growls, “It won’t benefit either of you in any major way.”

“Well, that’s not necessarily true,” Jesse huffs, taking a sip of pulque, “It got me here, with the two of you.”

“I’m not even involved in this damn project,” Gabriel huffs before the realization sets in and he mutters, “Oh god dammit, you aren’t here for me-”

Jesse grins at him before turning his attention to Jack, who just smiles with wicked politeness, saying, “What are you offering me, Jesse?”

Jesse pulls out a small pouch, sticks his right index finger and thumb in it, and pulls out a chunk of tobacco snuff.  He puts his hand over a brazier, and sprinkles the snuff into the flickering flames, which churn up dark, thick smoke swirling with magic.

An image of a double-headed serpent pendant, massive, winding itself up and down in an undulating fashion, appears in the mass of smoke -

It is _covered_ in turquoise.

Jack’s eyes suddenly seem to _gleam_.

_[The serpent is made out of about 2,000 small pieces of turquoise set onto a curved wooden frame, about 40 centimeters (16 inches) wide and half as high.  The snake, one body shared by two heads, is in profile; the body curls up and down in a W shape, to finish at each end in a savage, snarling head.  The body of the snake is entirely in turquoise, but a brilliant red shell has been used for the snouts and the gums, and the teeth are picked out in white shell culminating in huge, terrifying fangs.  As you move up and down in front of it, and let the light play over the turquoise, the changing colours seem to live, and the pieces look not so much like scales on a snake as feathers shimmering in the sunlight.  It is an object which is at once both snake and bird.  It is mysterious and disturbing, a work of high artifice and a vehicle of primal power.  You know you are in the presence of magic. - MacGregor]_

“The Mount Chalchihuitl mine is producin’ a good deal o’ turquoise these days,” Jesse drawls, “So much turquoise the Pueblo peoples don’t know what ta do with it all.  I’d be willin’ ta make more of it move south for the right price.”

Jack stares long and hard at the smoke before murmuring, “Name your price.”

Jesse grins wolfishly and Gabriel sighs.

Fucking _great_.

“I want the United States to be the ones to open Japan,” Jesse states with a hard, biting edge to his voice, “Not the Portuguese.”

Gabriel frowns deeply at that, growling, “The United States will be no friend of yours, Jesse, nor to anything you hold dear.”

“...I know what I’m about, _ataaʼ_ ,” the coyote scowls at him, “My peoples are gettin’ destroyed the moment that damn explorer sets foot on this continent.  I’m just securing a li’l bit o’ somethin’ extra.”

_[The Navajo code talkers were commended for their skill, speed, and accuracy demonstrated throughout the war. At the Battle of Iwo Jima, Major Howard Connor, 5th Marine Division signal officer, had six Navajo code talkers working around the clock during the first two days of the battle. These six sent and received over 800 messages, all without error. Connor later stated, "Were it not for the Navajos, the Marines would never have taken Iwo Jima."]_

“Why not bargain to get Columbus killed?” Gabriel mutters sourly and Jesse frowns, “I ain’t got that kinda power.  Nothin’ out here got that kinda power.  Not even the two o’ you.  There are too many strings woven from that moment that ain’t none o’ us got the power to change it.”

“But changing Japan’s isolation time?” Gabriel asks, “You’re playing with fire here, _conetl_.”

“Nah,” Jesse smirks at him, “It’s just bendin’ the rules.”

Suddenly, there’s a dark, submerged, deeply vicious laugh and the two gods look to the Water God -

Jack grins viciously, vividly, vivaciously and for a fraction of a second, his eyes seem gold in the light -

After all -

No one really knows what monsters lurk in the darkest, deepest, submerged chasms of the oceans.

Not even Gabriel.

Jack turns his now shallow, shimmering jade water eyes back to Jesse, saying coldly, “The serpent gets made first.”

“Aww, Jack -”

“You have time,” Jack says commandingly, “The Portuguese won’t arrive in Japan until 1543.  You get this turquoise to me before 1521, and then I’ll bend the rules for you.  Do we have a deal?”

“Won’t you need ta negotiate with the spirits o’ Japan?” Jesse asks and Jack flashes that same wicked grin again, saying, “Don’t worry about them - all islands fall to me eventually.”

A thrilling shudder ripples through Gabriel at the sheer _power_ in his words.

“I’ll stop by Japan when I’m done celebrating Panquetzaliztli and Atemoztli with Gabriel, just as a sign of good faith to you,” Jack says, “Do we have a deal?”

Jesse flashes a wild, bright grin, whooping loudly, “Fer real, pops?  Hell _yeah_ I’m down to jive with that plan.”  Gabriel shoots him a piercing glare and Jesse cows back a little before mumbling at more acceptable volumes, “I uh, I mean - thank you for your graciousness, God of Water.”

“There, there, _mąʼii_ ,” Jack laughs lightly, “Don’t let the Sun try to scare you - he’s all sunshine and no heat.”  His right hand slides to Gabriel’s leg and his fingers on Gabriel’s thigh rub slow, soft, _sensually frustrating_ circles into the cloth of his wrap.  Gabriel hides the shiver that shakes through him at the feeling.  Jack’s voice grows deep and stormy and rough like the sea under a hard wind, building into a slow, soft, _sensually wonderful_ rumble:

“He only burns those who try to get too close to him.”

Jesse - as wily as ever - certainly detects the implications and flashes a knowing smirk at the two of them, muttering, “You two gotta celebrate Panquetzaliztli first, huh?  Fine, fine, I know when my tricks aren’t working.”  The dry, dusty tumbleweed of a man rises and claps his hands together before bowing in an exaggerated and extravagant manner before departing in a small whirlwind of dust and smoke and the scent of tobacco.

“...You’re far too easy on him,” Gabriel grumbles as Jack settles back into lounging on his shoulder, but slowly, softly, sensually moving more and more into his lap.  The chuckle against his neck is soft, slow, _sensually amazing_ as Jack murmurs teasingly, “I find him clever and amusing.  His tricks do not cause _too much_ trouble - what’s the harm in humoring him?”

“...Turns out I was wrong,” Gabriel sighs, but he’s rapidly losing his frustrations as Jack resumes pressing slow, sweet, sensually needy kisses to the side of his neck and on the underside of his jaw, each one sending lightning strikes of pleasure through Gabriel’s skin.  Gabriel gives him a throaty, deep laugh and he delights in the soft hitch of breath that elicits from Jack as he chuckles:

“I’m far too easy on _you_.”

“Mmm, that’s true,” Jack nips at the crook of his jaw, before kissing at the shell of Gabriel’s ear - he’s all but crawled into Gabriel’s arms now, his legs straddling Gabriel’s left thigh and Gabriel shudders as he feels Jack’s cock - already half-hard - press into the cloth on his skin.  Gabriel’s hands are pulling at him, guiding him closer, gripping at the deep muscles in Jack’s lower back and waist, sliding them back even further as Jack moves even closer -

Jack’s lips press against Gabriel’s ear and his words storm into Gabriel’s soul:

“I don’t want easy from you, Gabi - won’t you be _hard_ on me today?”

The words run straight to Gabriel’s cock and his hands snap straight to Jack’s ass, pulling him fully into his lap.  Jack easily slings his left leg over Gabriel’s right thigh, straddling Gabriel’s hips with such grace, such fluidity, his eyes glinting with something dark and submerged and deeply _dangerous_ -

Deeply _powerful_ -

Deeply _sensual_.

Gabriel would give everything to be submerged in those depths -

“HELLO, WE ARE HERE,” a roaring, booming voice - like the call of a lion or the cracking of earth - rumbles through the small temple.

Gabriel nearly screams in agonized desperation but forces himself to yell instead, “GET THE FUCK OUT” as Jack collapses into a mischievous laugh against him.  A smaller, gentler, but no less powerful voice calls back, “DON’T BE RUDE, GABRIEL - WE CAME TO CELEBRATE WITH YOU.”

“I DON’T NEED ANY MORE COMPANY FOR TODAY,” he shouts back - Jack is still fucking _cackling_ to himself - but it’s too late.  The figures - one as big as a small mountain and the other as petite as a bird over the small mountain - enter into the main temple room, bearing gifts.  The smaller figure carries alcohol and honey and some sort of wheaty bread thing, while the larger figure carries a giant hammer and more alcohol.

The God of the Skies and the Wind, and the God of the Storms and the Oaks.

The former is better known as Horus, Ziz, Quetzalcoatl - a small, lithe figure capable of transforming herself into any manner of bird or beast, easily moving across the globe with a gust of wind or the shifting of sand.  The Gods know her as Ana - she ranks similarly as Jack or Gaia/Terra/Earth - _Doomfist or what the fuck ever he’s calling himself_ , Gabriel groans, he doesn’t give much of a fuck about what kinda trouble the asshole gets himself up to these days.

The latter is better known as Thor or Zeus, and in these regions he splits responsibilities with Jack, letting the Water God have the lion’s share of control while he mainly pals around with Torbjörn in colder parts of the world - the two of them crafting weapons and generally fighting anything that crosses their path.  The Gods know him as Reinhardt - in some places he ranks quite high among the human pantheons, and in others - mainly places without hammers - he is rather less important, often permitting Jack to control more of the mythology in such places.

Such as here, in the thinning strands between the two western continents, where sunlight and water and lightning and limestone may all intermingle in profound ways.

Where Jack is truly in his element.

Ana and Reinhardt are cracking some jokes to each other until both of them - each with only one good eye - register the scene of the Water God sitting in the lap of the Sun God until Gabriel leans his head out from behind Jack and snaps at them, “I fucking told you, ‘I don’t need any more company for today.’”

“...Yeah, I can see that,” Ana mutters dryly as Reinhardt - his blonde hair catching the sunlight - booms with a hearty laugh, “LOOKS LIKE YOU HAVE YOUR HANDS FULL, GABRIEL.”

“No fucking shit, Rein,” Gabriel hisses, his hands _still on Jack’s ass_ and Jack -

Jack leans back a little, giving Gabriel a sly, wicked grin -

And then flexes all the muscles in his thighs and ass and lower back and _HOLY FUCK_ -

“You fucking ASSHOLE,” Gabriel growls at him as Jack cackles with laughter and Ana is rubbing a hand to her forehead as Reinhardt joins in on Jack’s laugh before asking loudly, “Wait, why are we laughing?”

“Please, Ana, help me,” Gabriel croaks hoarsely, looking to her “sun” eye as she assesses him with a skeptical pout.  Jack gives a small roll of his hips and Gabriel nearly chokes as he feels Jack’s hardness brush against his own and _fucking shit_ -

“You know what,” Ana mutters dryly, setting her gifts on the table, “We’ll come back another day.  I can’t handle you two when you’re like this.”  Reinhardt scowls, muttering, “We’re leaving already?”

“C’mon, you big lion, let’s go watch the ball game,” Ana says to him, tugging at his arm, her dark hair rippling like black water as she moves the two of them back to the atrium.

“Oh! I LOVE ze ball game here,” Reinhardt says cheerfully before adding, “HAVE FUN, YOU TWO.”

“Thanks, Rein,” Gabriel shouts back weakly, feeling like he’s had to weather a hurricane all morning, and _speaking of hurricanes_ -

Jack is giggling to himself, pressing his forehead to Gabriel’s left shoulder, body shaking with rolls of laughter and Gabriel -

Gabriel finally _gets it_.

“...How many people did you remind that it’s the first day of Panquetzaliztli?” Gabriel grumbles, lifting his hands to tug Jack’s face away from his shoulder.  The Water God just beams at him with tragic, terrible, brilliantly breathtaking beauty as the Sun God growls, “And _why_ would you remind people it’s the first day of Panquetzaliztli?  You know all I want is to enjoy my food and then enjoy _you_.”

“I have my namesake to live up to,” the ultimate trickster and jackass smirks at him - his expression filled with raw, terrible, brilliantly breathtaking power and charm and desire - and Jack leans back into Gabriel, whispering breathlessly against his lips, voice dripping with dark, submerged, deeply _aching_ need:

“And I like a _slow burn_.”

Gabriel almost resists falling for the kiss.

...Almost.

Jack’s lips are warm and needy and _demanding_ in the most _agonizing_ way, just barely brushing over Gabriel’s, kissing him with just the faintest of touches, like the soft rippling of light on still water, but his whole body presses back against Gabriel’s, wrapping his arms and hands around Gabriel’s neck like twin serpents, digging fingernails into his scalp -

“Please, my sun,” Jack kisses lightly at his lips, drawing him in with dark, submerged, deeply aching words and need, drawing him in to drown him:

“I want you to burn me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know lots of people like to equate Jack with sunshine - AND THIS IS A GREAT AND BEAUTIFUL AND FUN IDEA. I love it. This is the idea - the idea of a bright, sunshiny, fluffy relationship between Gabriel and Jack that got me into this in the first place.
> 
> But the more I played Overwatch, the more I encountered the characters, the more I realized that I personally equated Jack, both Soldier and Strike-Commander, with water, with the color blue. And the more I played Overwatch, the more I encountered the characters, the more I realized that I equated Gabriel, both Reaper and Blackwatch Commander, with fire, with the color red. I know that Reaper's little soul globes are meant to represent little orbs of spirit, but I couldn't shake the idea that they could be little suns or stars instead.
> 
> As I've tried to demonstrate, the peoples of the Aztec Empire believed that their major gods required the sustenance of life - water, blood, maize, earth, and sunshine - in order to maintain the balance of the cosmos. And I found the mythology to be fairly closely related to Reaper's character mythos of requiring the energy of life to sustain himself. Combined with the imagery of suns and stars, I fell into this world of metaphors and myths and magic. If you go back and reread parts of my other posted fics, you'll see that all of these metaphors have existed from the very beginning, with Gabriel being compared to the sun, light, and fire, and Jack being compared to water, storms, and thunder.
> 
> Maybe this is self-indulgent of me, but pre-contact Tenochtitlán is genuinely the one place in all of time and space I would give anything to visit.
> 
> If only to experience it.
> 
> But anyways, sorry for rambling on - THERE'S ACTUAL FULFILLMENT OF SMUT IN THE NEXT PART, I PROMISE.


	2. Light and Water: Nectar and Ambrosia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Jack gets what's coming to him.
> 
> Also pulque looks EXACTLY like how you're imagining it.
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pulque
> 
> \---

**Light and Water: Nectar and Ambrosia**

 

In an instant, Gabriel is on him.

The sun moves faster than Jack can fully realize, kissing back into him with searing, melting lips, burning white hot against his skin and Jack hisses in pleasure as the light roils through him like a storm, hot and furious and _angry_ with desire - Jack can feel the fusion of the sunsoul in his dark chest pulsating and raging and reaching out to steal small licks of heat across Jack’s skin, peppering against him like tiny nips and bites and fingernail scratches -

Gabriel’s right hand squeezes against his muscles as his left hand glides up Jack’s back with fierce ease before winding fingers into his sun-touched hair and pulling hard and Jack demands with sheer joy:

“Yes, Gabriel, more, take me - make me hot, Gabriel, burn me -”

“ ** _That doesn’t sound like begging_.** ”

The words are deep and pounding, full of the power and fury of a thousand stars, burning with breathtaking brilliance across Jack’s skin, and the hand in his hair pulls him back, pulls him away, and Jack shudders, trying to keep his grip on his sun, his star, his king, but Gabriel’s hand forces his head to look at him and -

It is the smallest of transformations.

Everything about Gabriel is the same - his beautiful dark skin, his rich scars, his soft mustache and cut beard, the green feathers highlighting the tense structures of his neck, his cheekbones edged with green and red paint, he’s light and music and power - but his eyes -

His eyes glow

Red and gold and amber

Twin suns, twin stars -

Solar flares and fire darts and searing, melting fusion -

They pierce through Jack and Jack shudders with how they pin him, anchor him to the sun - his sun - to all that burns and glows, to the life and death held between them.  Those eyes hold Jack and bury him in molten gold, burning him all the way down to his core and his already hard cock, aching and wanting and _needing_ -

“Please, Gabriel, please, my sun,” Jack urges him, thunderstorms inside him crackling and snapping with electric currents of desire, the pleasure of being overheated consuming him, and Jack gasps with a smug, arrogant grin:

“Please, my sun, my love - ** _please make me beg for it_**.”

Those eyes glow hot and furious and _ruinous_ -

“You little shit,” Gabriel hisses at him before biting hard on the skin of his neck and Jack shudders as the pain-pleasure stings through him and the hand on his ass grips his waist wrap, hiking it up to his hips, the jade and turquoise and seashells on Jack’s belts chiming and singing with the motion.  Jack drags his fingertips across Gabriel’s scalp, urging him on, fueling his fire:

“Destroy me, Gabriel, give it to me _hard_ , make me feel it, make me hot, Gabriel -”

Gabriel is pushing him back, pushing him against the table, as the sun god shifts to his knees, his right hand is untying the loincloth and Jack’s gasping and moaning as his own hands shift to Gabriel’s shoulders, the heat soaking into him, boiling up from the inside out and Gabriel’s dark, bittersweet, smokey intensity is consuming him _hard_ -

Gabriel smothers the warm, sweet stretch of Jack’s neck with fierce kisses and hard bites, god, he wants to make the water god _beg_ , he wants to make him scream his name, he wants to feel him ripple and shiver and shimmer underneath him, he wants to see his own light reflected in Jack’s unfocused, heated gaze, he wants to feel their dance -

eternal, unending, undying -

helix through him like twin serpents, binding them together like life and death, death and life, like light and water, like amaranth and marigold, like blood and jade, like obsidian and pearl -

Like swirling sunbeams and stormclouds -

Jack is breathing hard, moaning something as Gabriel’s right hand gets the cloth undone and it falls away, leaving Jack naked beneath his scrunched up waist wrap, naked beneath jade and turquoise and pearls and seashells, and god, _god_ , he looks good like that - messy and aching and _needing_ Gabriel’s touch and liquid heat -

He’d look even better with more mess.

Gabriel bites at his lip and thrills at how Jack - those dark, submerged, deeply hazy eyes reflecting the sun’s every move - at how Jack melts a little more under Gabriel’s white hot gaze.  Jack’s spine seems to turn to jelly beneath Gabriel’s heat and he has to let go from clinging to his sun’s shoulders as Gabriel sits back.

Jack’s lower back presses into the side of the table and his hands slip back to grip the wooden edge, white-knuckled as the sun god lets out a low, dark, bittersweet liquid laugh and _fuck_ , his cock cannot get any harder, he’s been aching for Gabriel’s heat and pressure and the roll of his fusion for forever -

For nearly four billion years -

And even though he has had it in the past, and he will have it again in the future -

The future that ends in darkness -

It is not enough.

It will never be enough.

Gabriel’s red-gold-amber star eyes drag over Jack’s body - down and then back up - his hands releasing him and Jack feels exposed, so exposed, so open, the surface of a shallow, shimmering jade lake beneath the rising sun.  Jack stares straight into the light of the sun, taunting, teasing, pulling him in:

“C’mon, Gabriel, Gabi, my sun, my star - light me up, light my fire, make me burn, Gabriel -”

“You’ve been rushing me all morning, my sea,” Gabriel growls at him, “Pushing me and pushing me - you knew what you were doing the whole time.”

Jack does not deny the accusation.

Instead, Jack just smirks at him - a charming, arrogant, _powerful_ grin that’s dark and slow, submerged and soft, _deeply_ and _achingly sensual_ \- and that -

That pushes Gabriel to the brink.

It is _his_ goddamn celebration.

And he is going to enjoy his favorite food -

Jack

And his sweet nectar of life.

Gabriel leans in close to him, leans right up against the depths of that wicked, drowning smile - as dark as a storm over the sea, and his lips _burn_ against Jack’s:

“ ** _I am going to savor this._** ”

And with that, his left hand grips one of the jars of honey, the other grips his cup of pulque, before he shifts back to his haunches.

Gabriel locks his burning, melting eyes onto Jack’s dark, submerged, deeply thunderous gaze -

And then he pours some of the pulque onto the water god’s chest.

Jack’s breath hitches and his muscles tense reflexively as the lukewarm, thick milky liquid drips across his chest and not a second later, Gabriel drizzles some of the honey into the alcohol, the bright golden syrup mixing across the whiteness and _holy hell_ , the way Gabriel looks at him - like a delicacy fit for a god, like the sweetest delight offered to him - makes his cock twitch in anticipation -

He is _ready_ to let Gabriel savor him however his sun wants.

Gabriel bends over his companion’s offered body, covered in milk and honey, nectar and ambrosia, and licks a long, hot stripe up Jack’s stomach, drinking up the mess and _god_ , it is sour and sweet, slow and sticky, liquid pearl and liquid gold, and Jack gasps and shudders beneath him and more than anything -

Jack’s skin underneath is as refreshing and wonderful as sweet sugar water.

One hand releases the table and grips into Gabriel’s scalp, shaking and shivering and urging him onwards, onwards and upwards and Gabriel’s own hot, burning, aching hands grip at Jack’s hips, clinking jade and turquoise and pearl and seashell in a discordant, feathery light jingle, but the music of his jewelry cannot compare to the sounds breaking out of his lips, all harsh gasps and brilliantly breathless murmurs:

“Ah, Gabriel, fuck, _fuck_ \- take me, make me _burn_ , Gabriel - _god, god_ , you’re so hot, Gabi -”

Gabriel chuckles and licks at the pulque-honey mess more, kissing and nipping and biting at the warm, sweet skin underneath as Jack shudders below his lips and hands, his body grinds up reflexively, his cock is aching, _needing_ some of Gabriel’s heat to claim it, to warm it, to release the burn building behind it, but his sun pushes him back down even as Jack struggles to roll his hips back up -

“ ** _You’ll get what I want to give you_**.”

Jack moans at the command in the voice, pressed against his chest, drinking up sour, milky alcohol and sweet, sticky honey, drawing out flakes and fragments and chips of the power of life swirling in him - Gabriel could easily drain the life out of him, could easily pull his energy into the burning sunsoul of his heart, could melt him down into the fusion of his core -

But they both know what he chose -

And that he would choose - time and again, life and death and death and life - not to destroy Jack into nothingness -

But to break him into shuddering, shallow, shimmering jade gasps and storms of pleasure, to turn him into liquid heat and light, to melt him down into a single boiling ocean of consciousness, adrift in their shared sea -

Because while no force in the universe could stop it or control it -

The brilliantly breathtaking beauty of life is to watch it unravel upon itself.

Gabriel bites at one of Jack’s nipples, sucking the pulque-honey mess off, chuckling at how his needy trickster god gasps and whines under his tongue, Jack’s hips shaking and struggling against his hands.  Gabriel continues his climb up Jack’s body, kissing and biting and licking even past where the nectar and ambrosia end, moving to his neck, brushing past abalone and marigolds, pressing his lips to the column of Jack’s throat, which gulps and heaves -

Up to his cut jawline, biting lightly at the skin and flushed heat spreading across his sweet skin -

Before returning his lips to the truest ambrosia of all -

Jack gasps when Gabriel’s lips return to his, but only for an instant - and then he’s pushing back against his sun, licking at the sour and sweet, slow and sticky flavor that lingers on his lips, feeling the brush of warm, soft hair against his skin, craving, aching, _needing_ more of that liquid gold and _damn_ , the pulque isn’t strong at all, but the mere taste of Gabriel is enough to get him feeling sunkissed and overheated, drunk on Gabriel’s power and his slow, soft, sensual motions -

“ _Please, Gabriel_ ,” Jack growls against him, his hand in the back of Gabriel’s head gripping and scratching hard -

“Please _what_ , Jack?” Gabriel asks back, as dark and bittersweet and smokey as obsidian and Jack -

Jack unravels.

“Please, Gabriel, please - _touch me_ , fuck me, savor me - do _anything_ to me, just - I need you, I need you, _I want you_ , please -”

Gabriel’s left hand leaves his hip and Jack feels a slow, soft, sensual finger _drag_ up the length of his cock, which twitches at the touch and his whole body shudders under the _agonizing_ pace of Gabriel’s pleasure.

“You had your chance to beg, Jack,” Gabriel smirks against his lips and Jack watches that dangerous, _deadly_ face through hazy, half-lidded eyes, struggling to focus even as Gabriel’s red-gold-amber gaze burns into him.

“You can beg all you want, Jack, but this is _my treat_ and I’ll enjoy it at my leisure.”

Even as he says that, Gabriel finally wraps his hand - rough and hot and _achingly slow_ \- around Jack’s cock and Jack nearly cries at how _good_ it feels, at finally having Gabriel’s sweet friction, even just his hand, around him.  Gabriel moves his lips to Jack’s ear and murmurs teasingly, “But show me how bad you want it, Jack, and maybe - maybe you can persuade me to be more generous.”

And suddenly, Gabriel moves away again and Jack growls in frustration at how quickly the heat of the sun’s body vanishes from his, but his hand -

His hand around Jack’s cock remains their only point of contact.  

Gabriel sits back on his knees again, with the smuggest, richest smirk on his beautiful face, red-gold-amber eyes boring into Jack and Jack -

Jack puts his hand back on the edge of the table, stabilizing himself against it, and, flicking thunderstorm eyes to his sun -

He begins to rock his hips.

 _Fuck_ , the friction feels _so good_.

Gabriel’s hand is hot and the smooth, melting silk skin of Jack’s aching, needing cock presses into his heated palm and fingers, and Jack groans as he undulates his hips - down and up and up and down - his torso working himself into Gabriel’s hand, the jade and turquoise and pearl and seashell glimmering and chiming under the waves of his body as pleasure slowly, softly, sensually rolls into him like the slow build of a summer thunderstorm and _fuck_ , Gabriel’s eyes light up at how he works himself for his god -

Gabriel feels ripples of light pleasure feather through him as he watches Jack move, watches shallow, shimmering muscles shake and tremble and pulse - pulse that soft, slick, hard heat into his hand, watches as the lightning in Jack’s eyes flashes, challenging him to criticize him, daring him to deny him even this gift but -

As if Gabriel would ever stop the sight of Jack fucking himself into Gabriel’s hand.

Instead Gabriel just sits back, tightening his grip slightly and relishing in the small gasp that gets from Jack who thrusts up and down into his hand with renewed vigor, and Gabriel growls out his encouragement:

“That’s it, Jack, that’s it - show me how much you want it - show me that you _mean it_ this time -”

A darkly desirous - borderline delirious - storm flashes through Jack’s eyes - they burn gold for a brief second and Gabriel’s shivers at the look -

At the reflection of his own light in Jack’s eyes -

And then Jack lifts his left hand.  He grabs the cup of pulque from the floor beside them, and - even as he continues to pleasure himself on Gabriel - he brings the cup to his chest with deliberate slowness and tips some of the sour, viscous white alcohol back onto his body.

Gabriel’s smile deepens as his own cock twitches at the sight, his aching, _burning_ need for Jack threatening to overwhelm him.

Jack sets the pulque cup back down, before returning his hand to the table.  He grabs the jar of honey from the right side, and - never breaking eye-contact with Gabriel - drips more of the golden syrup onto himself.

Gabriel bites at his lip -

He’s so close -

So close to breaking his willpower -

But Jack’s hand does not return to supporting himself on the table.

Instead, Jack dips his fingers into the sour and sweet, slow and sticky mixture, coating them in the pulque-honey mess, and he draws them to his lips, where he kisses them slowly, softly, sensually, before his tongue slides out and drinks in the nectar and ambrosia.

The dark, bittersweet, smokey need _rages_ inside Gabriel -

Jack’s golden eyes meet his and he says in thunderstorm tones:

“ ** _Come and get it then._** ”

In an instant, Gabriel is on him.

He hurtles into Jack with fierce and undying _need_ , kissing and licking and biting at his lips, sucking the pulque-honey and sweet sugar water off of his companion’s mouth, trading life and death and death and life in whispered, brilliantly breathless exchanges of words:

“Fucking _hell_ , Jack, _fuck_ \- that’s more like it, jackass, supplicate yourself before me,” Gabriel growls at him as he pumps his fist and Jack gasps, crying out as the pleasure rivers through him, building up his cock and into his spine, “Shit, _shit_ \- god _dammit_ , Gabriel, please, please, _please_ \- I’m begging you, I’ll beg for anything, _please_ , Gabriel -”

And then Gabriel’s bending back over his torso, licking up the alcohol and syrup, getting drunker off of Jack than anything else, feeling his burning, frothing need build inside him as Jack returns a hand to his shoulder, digging his fingers into the swell of his back muscles, as Jack moans with each stroke of his hand -

Gabriel draws his right hand through the pulque-honey mixture, licking at his own fingers once before holding it up to Jack’s lips, rumbling out, “Work your magic, Jack.”

Jack flickers a heated, searing, defiant gaze to Gabriel’s face, desperation and pleasure breaking out across his expressions in alternating waves, before he exhales on the mixture on Gabriel’s fingers -

And the milk-white, liquid-gold mixture swirls at the breath of life, blending together into a slick, sweet sugar liquid -

True ambrosia - a blending of milk and honey, of sour and sweet, of alcohol and syrup, of water and light, of life and death -

The nectar of the gods.

It burns and glitters a pale, sweet gold, like liquid light, like liquid life, like liquid sunshine spun from sugar water, and Gabriel chuckles with dark ache as he coats the rest of his hand in it -

And then he swaps hands around Jack’s cock.

Jack gasps as the wet, slick, golden heat slides around him, pulling and pumping him, and he shudders as Gabriel groans against him, “God _damn_ , Jack, keep going, you’re close, I know you’re close -”

“Hurry, Gabriel, _please_ , please - fill me up, Gabriel, I want to feel you burn,” Jack moans as Gabriel continues to lick and drink the mixture off of his chest, and suddenly, Gabriel is guiding him up slightly with his left hand, pushing him up and onto the table and -

There’s the abrupt clanking and clattering of plates as Jack seats himself on it, his hands clinging to Gabriel’s head as the sun god kisses and nips at his stomach, his right hand still pumping and building aphrodisiac sweetness on Jack’s cock, pleasure is weaving with light and liquid heat inside him, and he’s edging to the end, to the horizon where the light blends with the water -

“Gabriel, Gabriel, _please_ , I need you, I want to _feel_ you -” Jack chants over and over - it is a prayer, a supplication, a song of heat and water and the tinkling of jewelry - as his hands skitter and scrape across Gabriel’s head and Gabriel shudders at the feeling of dripping, water words and heated fingertips, at the twitch and ache of Jack’s stiffness in his hand and he’s groaning -

He pulls his right hand off of Jack’s cock, presses both hands to his hips -

And he swallows Jack’s cock.

“AH, _Gabriel_ ,” Jack shouts hoarsely as wet, sucking heat consumes him, wrapping around him hot, dark, bittersweet and smokey, and he’s jerking and rolling his hips, pushing into Gabriel’s mouth, against his melting tongue and fuck, _fuck_ \- he never wants to part, he never wants to be apart, why does he _leave_ all the time -

Because they are never truly apart -

There is always the light on the water somewhere.

The taste of him is sour and sweet sugar water mixed with Jack’s salt and bitterness, nectar of the gods mixed with the nectar of his life and Gabriel _loves_ how they taste together, bittersweet and smokey and brilliantly breathtaking as his companion god shudders and shakes beneath his tongue, his mouth, his lips, as he works the flavor to the back of his throat, Jack and his ambrosia dripping into his throat.

He’s close -

Gabriel already knows this -

He can feel the water bubbling and roiling beneath the heat and pressure of his light - Jack is radiating heat and reflecting light, he’s practically glowing gold as the candles and the braziers and even the drifting sunbeams bear down on him with Gabriel holding him down, pushing him down into the depths of his pleasures and -

“ _Gabriel, please, **please**_ -”

God, he begs so _good_.

Jack begs and pleads and prays as his own throbbing, aching, _needing_ pleasure is released in a wave, blinding and bright and breathtaking, as his hands grip down on the crownless head, but he knows, he already knows -

Gabriel drinks what is offered to him.

It is sour and sweet, salty and bitter -

He would make his choice again, and again, and again -

In every life -

In every death -

To savor moments like this.

Jack sputters and gasps for breath as Gabriel gives one last slow, soft, sensual lick, raising his head to assess the destruction, the unraveling he’s wrought on his finest gift and -

Jack looks _devastated_.

His face - normally so smug, so controlled, so masked in the exacting expressions he wants to show - is open, vulnerable and exhausted with pleasure, his eyes are somewhere else - adrift in the ocean of his consciousness - dark and submerged and deeply lost in his own bliss and Gabriel -

He already knows -

He’s going to join him.

Gabriel rises a little, chuckling as he presses slow, soft, sensual kisses to Jack’s lips and a second later, Jack presses back, light upon water and water reflecting light, mirroring each other - but Gabriel’s hands are moving across the table, he vaguely remembers where they were -

His right hand brushes across another cup and he dips his fingers in - slow, sticky syrup there.

His left hand finds Jack’s pulque cup, stirring his fingers in it.

Against Jack’s lips, he smiles wolfishly.

Still only half-aware, Jack moans a little as Gabriel breaks their kiss, muttering, “Gabriel, no, _please_ -” as his hands trace over Gabriel’s head, to the edge of his cheekbones, to the roughness of scars and some facepaint, and his sun god just laughs darkly.

“Oh, Jack - Jack, Jack,” Gabriel grins at him, bringing his hands back into Jack’s view and -

Golden honey on his right hand, milky pulque on his left - and Gabriel places his two hands together, as if clapping, as if in prayer, and the two liquids mix and melt together -

Jack’s thoughts are so dark and submerged and deep in the depths of his pleasure that it takes him a moment to register, but when it does, he doesn’t even think, he doesn’t even bother to tease or to taunt or to titillate -

He pulls Gabriel’s hands close to his lips and his eyelids flutter shut and he inhale- _exhales_ -

The power of life breathes from his lips.

Gabriel grins roguishly as Jack’s magic transforms the two substances into one, turning it into shallow, shimmering white-gold water, again, a liquid light that warms and heats and heals, that tastes of sour and sweet, of life and death -

Jack opens his eyes, and Gabriel sees that some of his focus has returned to him -

Only temporarily.

Gabriel looks at him with sweet affection before nuzzling his left fingers to Jack’s lips, and the water god presses slow, soft, sweet kisses there before licking at some of the ambrosia and tilting a dark, submerged, deeply _needy_ gaze back to Gabriel.

“ ** _I want more_** ,” Jack says, his voice rolling between them with all the power of his storms and all the depths of the oceans, and Gabriel just smirks back - a burning, _searing_ smile that could melt anything into molten gold, “I told you, didn’t I - **_I am going to savor this_.** ”

Jack sighs with a mixture of frustration and contentment as Gabriel pulls his hand away before turning his attention back downwards.  One hand slides Jack’s legs further apart on the edge of the table as the other pushes him back - there’s more clattering and clinking as plates of less enticing food are moved out of the way, and Jack settles back -

Right where he belongs.

Gabriel’s breath hitches as he guides Jack’s right leg over his shoulder, his left hand pressing the waist wrap and belts of jade and turquoise and pearls and seashells higher, and Jack struggles to relax on the stiff uncomfortableness of the table, surrounded by plates and candles and braziers and he can _feel_ Gabriel’s gaze analyze and burn into him -

God _dammit_ , he’s literally just come and he can already feel his cock begin to _ache_ again under the heat of the sun -

The faintest twitch of Jack’s half-hard cock does not escape Gabriel’s attention and he smirks - god, Jack can be so _anxious_ ; he tries to play these games, but he can’t handle the heat - before lowering his gaze to the ring of muscles there and _god_ , he knows, he already knows -

Gabriel presses his left fingers, slick with pale golden ambrosia, into Jack’s warmth, his liquid heat and -

“ _Fuuuuu-uck_ ,” Jack groans as Gabriel works into him, his fingers are hot and covered in liquid gold, they push and pressure into his core, slowly, softly, sensually moving in and out, up and down, Gabriel’s being _liberal_ with the ambrosia, smearing it on Jack’s hips, his thighs, his ass, inside his muscles and out as well and Jack moans as he feels Gabriel’s tongue lap and lick behind his right hand, teasing up and down Jack’s body as it drinks up the nectar of life -

Gabriel chuckles, he _burns_ with restless, endless _thirst_ as he nips at the cleft of Jack’s thigh and ass and is reward with another gasp and a tight clench of the muscles around his left fingers.  The ambrosia is sour and sweet and mixes so perfectly with the warmth of Jack’s skin - it’s _torture_ to move this slow, even as his delicacy lies out, ready and waiting and _wanting_ him, but Gabriel’s willing to pay any price to fulfill Jack’s slow burn.

After all -

Jack played with fire.

Jack would face the _consequences_.

Finally, Gabriel reaches the point where his fingers are sliding and slipping and working in and out of Jack, where the ambrosia is the richest and the thickest, glittering a pale, shallow, shimmering gold water and _fuck_ , Gabriel’s eyes _alight_ with pleasure at the mere, dripping sight of it -

He presses the tip of his tongue to the liquid heat and -

“ ** _AH_** ,” Jack practically screams and, fuck, _yes,_ make them hear it, make them all hear it, Gabriel wants him to scream his name from the rooftops, to proclaim him his king, his sun, his power, he wants every star to hear it and know, know what he already knows -

No force in the universe could stop it or control it -

But Gabriel can make life itself unravel with his golden, light-dipped hands and gilded tongue.

Jack shouts and screams and he doesn’t _mean_ to, but he bucks and rolls his hips as Gabriel works at him with tongue and fingers and his pure fusion power, but he’s pushing back - water reflecting light - and Gabriel gives as good as he can as Jack’s sun god tastes and savors him slowly with vivid, _vicious_ intensity -

Jack’s hands scramble - there’s nothing to _grip_ , nothing to _anchor_ himself to except the single southern point where the two of them are connected, bound together on a single line of power and his right hand gropes blindly to touch Gabriel’s head as his left hand reaches back to grip white-knuckled on the other edge of the table, as he rocks and bucks and rolls with the waves of pleasure flooding through him - and then, at the touch of his fingers on Gabriel’s rough, shaved head -

Gabriel chuckles against him -

The vibrations of his dark, bittersweet, smokey voice radiate through Jack and he sobs, begs, pleads as the pressure and heat and sour and sweet pleasure ripple through him like the building of a hurricane -

“ ** _Gabriel, Gabriel, please_ -** ” he intones with all his power, with everything he can offer upon the altar of Gabriel’s mercy, please, let his god be a merciful one, he needs him, he needs his sun, his light, his heat, his power -

Gabriel gives one long, last thrust and lick before pulling away and licking at the remaining ambrosia on his left fingers and lips, smug and self-satisfied to hell and back, and he rises back to his knees, Jack’s right leg still resting loosely on his shoulder -

The long, low table is hip-height -

Just the _right_ height.

Jack looks up at him, panting and heaving, sprawled out among all these other dishes Gabriel no longer gave a damn about - he was already full on his first favorite food, the smokey taste of death, and now, finally, after such a _trying_ morning -

He would get his fill of his other favorite - the sweet taste of life -

Gabriel smirks down at Jack, as he unknots his loincloth and hikes up his waist wrap, the belts of feathers and jade and gold bells and obsidian jingling with the music of his light, radiant power, and he rubs the remaining ambrosia on his right hand onto his stiff, aching, _needing_ cock, pumping at the sight of Jack a few times as he states, “ ** _Finally where you belong_**.”

Jack _somehow_ manages to scrape together enough shards of his mischievous nature to snap sharply, “ ** _I don’t belong to you_**.”

And Gabriel -

He already knows this.

They both already know this.

Gabriel just grins and Jack melts beneath that burning, red-gold-amber gaze that threatens to draw him in, to pull him too close to the sun, to burn him whole, and the sun god lines himself up -

Jack shudders slightly as he feels the head of Gabriel’s cock press slowly, softly, sensually against him -

“I know you don’t belong to me, Jack,” the sun whispers in dark, bittersweet, smokey music to the sea -

“ ** _But that’s because you chose me_**.”

And in an instant,

Gabriel is inside him, saying:

“ ** _I want you to sing to every star why you chose me_**.”

Jack shouts hoarsely with ache and need and _pleasure_ as Gabriel’s heat and pressure fill him, searing him from the inside out, thick and full and _sweet_ , so sweet, like liquid gold, like sunbeams made solid, and he gasps, arching back, gripping white-knuckled on the table as Gabriel rocks into him -

Gabriel groans with dark, submerged, _deep_ satisfaction as Jack’s hot, stormy pressure surrounds him, envelops him with a pulsating, churning, roiling tightness, slick and wet with shallow, shimmering gold water and _god_ , they were made to be like this, they had chosen to be like this, anchored together in a dance as old as the ocean, as old as light upon water and water reflecting light -

Gabriel’s hands dig bruising fingerprints into Jack’s hips as he pushes, pushes, and then pulls, pulls, steadily building a thrusting rhythm as true as the tide, the feathery light music of jewelry twinkles around the groaning and creaking of wood and deep, thunderstorm gasps and calls:

“ _Yes, Gabriel - **yes** \- more, please, please, **I want more** , I need more -_” Jack calls for him, for his truth, for his power as Gabriel thrusts into him, into his tight, deep pressure, pushing up and down and in and out, into his swelling sweetness, into his anchor point of pleasure, and he trembles and shakes and arcs on the stiff uncomfortableness of the table, one hand gripping white-knuckled on the edge of the wood, the other reaching to lock down Gabriel’s left hand on his hip, to keep it there, to hold him down and -

Drown the both of them in their ocean of pleasure.

Gabriel kisses and nips at the side of Jack’s leg, his right hand sliding up to scratch and claw at the ambrosia-covered thigh as Jack’s fingers clutch at his left hand, and he thrusts in again, and again, reveling in how Jack clenches and tightens around him, how the depths refuse to release him, how they drag him down deep into their heat and pressure of pleasure, the ecstasy building on the slow, agonizing, _miserably_ sour and sweet burn he’s been teased with all morning -

His cock throbs and aches deep inside Jack, and Gabriel moans, “ _Fuck,_ **_fuck yes_** _, Jack - shout for me, **sing for me** , tell them what I mean to you, **sing my praises, Jack**_ -”

Jack gasps and shudders as each thrust fucks into him, rushing wave after wave after wave of lightheaded, aching pleasure and sunstorm, needy pressure, threatening to drag him into the undertow of consciousness as Gabriel pulls and pulls and pulls at his hips, dragging him deeper, making him fuller with every push and push and push -

Gabriel lowers Jack’s leg to match the other wrapped around his hips and thrusts himself in deep, as deep as he can go, leaning his entire weight into the thrust as he forces himself to drag his right hand back to the jar of honey, and he manages to shake Jack’s right hand off of his and wrap their fingers together, guiding him over, over, even as he pumps their steady, easy, flowing rhythm together -

Through the fogging haze of pleasure overwhelming his senses, Jack feels his fingertips - entwined with Gabriel’s - brush against a ceramic cup and he knows, he already knows what Gabriel wants -

He grabs the cup and, as if mirroring each other -

Their separate right hands pour sour and sweet onto him.

Jack feels Gabriel’s heat and throbbing, thrusting pressure fuck into him, building fast and hard and furious - it mingles with the sour and sweet liquid being drizzled all over him, making it something new, something delicious, pleasure and ambrosia and nectar and sweet sugar water, and even in his haze, the mere sight of Gabriel pouring liquid gold over him sets him _afire_ , sears his storming insides with incredible heat and he clenches down as Gabriel growls at him.

Jack drops the cup back to the table, before reaching his free hand back out to his sun, his star, begging, pleading, praying:

“ ** _Come and get it, Gabriel - come to me_**.”

And the combination of Jack’s raging, slick heat, undulating and tightening around him in cresting waves of pleasure with Jack laid out before him, covered in slow milky pulque and sticky golden honey and begging, pleading, praying for him -

It sets Gabriel’s furious, aching, _needing_ hunger on _fire_.

Gabriel grips his hips again, snapping Jack onto him _hard_ and _hot_ , causing Jack to moan and shout as Gabriel bends over him, licking and drinking the sour and sweet alcohol and syrup, letting the water god pull him down into the depths of their Eoarchean ocean, wave after wave of pleasure forcing him to sink as he drowns in sour, creamy pulque and sweet, sizzling honey and the burning, blazing heat of Jack’s skin -

And he works his way up Jack, as much as his position will allow, all while never leaving that pressuring depth, never leaving their dance, Jack’s free hand pulling and pulling and pulling, guiding him northward, as his body shakes and shivers and arcs beneath the light of the sun -

Gabriel finishes his drink of life and death and Jack and it -

 _It’s not enough_.

He’s not close enough - Jack’s head is still arching back, his left hand is still clutching the edge of the table behind him, his eyes are misted over, flashing between white and blue and gold and blue like watching light refractions through drizzling raindrops and _it’s not enough_ \- Gabriel wants to be caught in that same storm as him, he wants to reflect the water as the water reflects light -

He wraps a hand around an abalone pendant and grips a fistful of marigolds and woven twine and shell and he pulls and pulls and pulls -

Jack feels the pull and pull and pull of his talisman and follows it, letting him guide him back up, up to the light - he releases the table instinctively, reaches out instinctively, wraps his left arm around broad, burning shoulders instinctively, presses his lips to the side of a beard instinctively, moaning into dark, bittersweet smokey skin and hair:

“ _More, Gabriel, please, more, I’m close again, please, I want to feel you, **I want to feel your burn**_ -”

And there’s one hand digging scratches into his lower back and another gripping at his shoulders and strong sun-kissed arms are cradling him against a dark, bittersweet, smokey body that rumbles and shakes and flares with a burst of light and heat -

He feels Gabriel throb and thrust inside him, feels the sun shudder against him, feels him call out to him:

“ _Jack, Jack, come with me, stay with me - **keep going, Jack, that’s it, that’s good** -_ ”

And the sun god tilts his head and lets the water god kiss into him, dark and light, surface and submerged, high and deep, and -

Together, they drown.

Gabriel pulls Jack to him even closer, as close as they can get and he leans back and -

Together, they fall.

They slip - one backwards and one forwards - off of the support of the table and down onto a mess of cushions with the music of jewelry and their harsh, ragged breaths keeping their tempo, and now they’ve reversed -

The sun in the heavens is below, and the jade water of the lake is above.

Jack doesn’t stop, the rhythm of their tide and waves overwhelms him - he feels Gabriel’s burning, melting, _searing_ heat and pressure thrust up into him from below and he arcs back, shouting out to all the skies and the stars and the voids:

“ _I’m with you, Gabriel, Gabriel - don’t stop, please, **please - we’re close, I know we’re close, fill me up, Gabriel**_ -”

Gabriel groans and winces with undulating, snaking pleasure as he watches Jack roll and writhe above him, his whole body building with the power of swirling sunbeams and stormclouds, as liquid gold heat clenches and tightens and _burns_ around him.  His hands bite and scratch into Jack’s hips, needing something to grip, something to anchor to as they drown and fall and drift into their ocean of light - as the water upon the light and the light reflects the water -

“ _Jack, Jack - I’m here, I’m with you - **stay with me, Jack - let me savor you -**_ ”

Jack rides him like cresting waves, and he shudders, gasping and rolling and fucking down on him, before he falls to his sun, and Gabriel catches him, pulling and pulling and pulling him down even as he pushes and pushes and pushes and Jack’s lips kiss his and they _inhale-exhale_ -

They meld and melt as light and water, water and light -

Life and death and death and life -

No force in the universe can stop them or control them -

They’ll shout and sing that to every star -

That they chose this

That their empire may fall from the inside out

That the darkness will consume them

But that they chose this -

And they know

They already know -

They’ll choose this again.

And in that single, almost imperceptible moment -

They are as one -

Light life and water death, light death and water life.

The pleasure consumes them.

“ ** _Gabriel,_** ” Jack shouts to all four corners of the universe, even though his lips are still pressed close to his sun’s, as Gabriel thrusts into his pressure point once-twice, and Jack falls, he drowns as the pleasure floods him with light and energy and the sensation of the sun -

Gabriel groans and presses hot kisses to his sea’s lips, as Jack spirals down around him, pulling him in and up and drowning him in waters of light and gold, and he shudders and gasps and throbs as his energy releases and the pleasure hurricanes through him with dazzling raindrops refracting the light and, he does not shout, he does not cry out, he murmurs to the sweet sugar water kissing him, “ ** _Jack_.** ”

Together

They drown in liquid light.

Together

They drift in the Eoarchean ocean of their shared pleasure, entwined around each other in a dancing helix that spirals from the light on the surface of the water down into the dark, submerged depths, water upon the light and the light reflecting water, anchored together not just at one point of connection, but at all points - Jack curled upon Gabriel as Gabriel holds him there -

In this brilliantly breathtaking moment

They are together.

As they drift together.

With extreme reluctance,

They pull the shards and jade beads, gold bells and pearls of their consciousnesses back together.

Jack stirs slowly, softly, subtly - just enough to breathe another kiss against Gabriel’s lips, with Gabriel mirroring him a moment later.  The sun god runs a slow, soft, subtle hand through the sunspeckled gold-blonde hair of his companion, relishing in the softness, the way it shimmers and shifts beneath his fingers, as the water god brushes trembling, tender fingers across his cheek -

Jack eases back slightly, eyes absently drifting across Gabriel’s face before he gives the sun god a lazy, roguish smirk:

“...That was... _hot_.”

Gabriel scowls, pressing the fingertips of his free hand to his temple as he groans, “Sometimes I really fucking hate you.”

Jack’s lazy river of a smile grows even wider, his eyes steadily regaining their usual liveliness and teasing glow as he chuckles:

“You really _set me on fire_ -”

“NO -”

“We really _turned up the heat_ -”

“STOP -”

“You really got my blood _boiling_ -”

“DAMMIT JACK,” Gabriel growls as his fingers dive to Jack’s ribs and wiggle across them, causing the water god to laugh and squirm reflexively, and the motion makes Gabriel hiss slightly because both of them are _still connected_ and Jack’s laughter turns into a soft, low moan, but he manages to giggle slightly, “Wait, wait, Gabi - I got a good one.”

Gabriel gives him a disbelieving, deadpan stare as Jack cracks another wide, shit-eating grin:

“Baby, are you paradise?   _Cause that felt like the land of milk and honey_.”

Gabriel continues to give him a disbelieving, deadpan stare before his eyes glow with dark joy, his lips quirk up, and he snorts, “That one was okay.”

“Just ‘okay?’” Jack asks with mock horror before muttering mischievously, “Sounds like someone isn’t getting a second round with the way he’s talking.”

“Joke’s on you, I need a break,” Gabriel chuckles at him before cracking his own smug smirk, “And some water.”

“OH, OH,” Jack taunts him loudly, eyes flashing between gold and blue and delight and trickery, pushing himself up a bit more and tugging at Gabriel’s beard a little, “I see how it is - I see how you want to play this, Your Highness.”

“I’m afraid you just... _didn’t quite quench my thirst_ , Jack,” Gabriel grins at him viciously, and he’s rewarded with a small rumble of thunder as the water in the air condenses into a tiny stormcloud around Jack’s shoulders - the water god’s eyes gleam with lightning and wicked playfulness, even as his fingers caress Gabriel’s jaw lovingly.

“Be careful what you wish for, Gabriel,” Jack snaps, his storm crackling slightly as he chuckles in dark, submerged, deep tones, “You know what they say - _when it rains, it pours._ ”

“Fucking _bring it_ , jackass,” the sun god seethes, even though he might actually be laughing, he’s not entirely sure, Jack’s laughing back - water upon light, and light reflecting water - and Gabriel chuckles, “You talk a big game, my sea, but you can’t _handle the heat_ , hmm?”

“Oh, I handled you _just fine_ ,” Jack says with a slight swagger of his shoulders and a teasing roll of his hips and Gabriel groans a little at the pressure on his overstimulated cock, and _god_ , he would love nothing more than to keep going, to keep up their endless, undying storm of liquid light and submerged heat but -

“Alright, alright, seriously, we need to get up,” Gabriel manages to grit out, pressing his hands on Jack’s hips to anchor him into stopping, before he slowly guides his companion off of him, both of them groaning slightly as the warmth and pressure ease up, but he eventually gets Jack to slide off.  Jack flops to the side onto another cushion, pouting slightly as he mutters, “We don’t _need_ to do anything.  It’s your vacation, or so you keep reminding everyone.”

“We need to at least watch the end of the ball game,” Gabriel huffs, sitting up and grabbing his loin cloth.  He secures it again before finding Jack’s and tossing it at him, causing Jack to sigh wistfully, “But that involves getting up.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, snarking, “Sounds like someone’s not getting a second round of souls with the way he’s talking.”

This gets Jack to sit up and focus a little more, and the water god looks at him with a dark, submerged, deeply wicked gleam as he asks, “And after?”

Gabriel grins at him with a powerful, heated, _blazing_ smirk:

“I’ll let you have your fill of me, if you want.”

Jack gives him a charming, knowing smile, “I’m sure I’ll savor that.”

The water god glances at the white mess on himself with mild amusement, before he waves a hand over it and the thick white liquid turns clear and watery and -

“Oh _, god_ ,” Gabriel says with shock and Jack just flashes a wild smile at him, saying, “It’s the water of life, Gabriel.”

“Remind me to _never_ drink anything you offer me -” the sun god groans but his companion just chirps, “But you already did!”

“I’m already regretting overindulging you,” Gabriel sighs, and Jack just laughs as he clothes himself again before jumping to his feet with an _annoying_ spring to his step - how does he still have so much energy after that? - and as he adjusts his waist wrap, Gabriel pauses, scowling slightly, watching the sunshine catch in his gold-blonde hair and shimmer on his skin -

“...Why aren’t you like blue or green or some other color?” Gabriel asks him as he watches Jack run a hand across his head.  Jack glances back at him in light surprise, asking with some confusion, “All this time, and we’ve never discussed this?”

Gabriel shrugs, saying, “Just hadn’t thought about it until Jesse brought up the turquoise thing.  Out here they give you jade, and further north they give you abalone.  Seems weird that you’re so -” Gabriel waves a hand over him and Jack gives him a skeptical look before snorting, “Eloquent as usual, Gabi.”

“Goddammit, jackass, I’m trying to ask about this because -”

“...I like the light.”

Gabriel stops, stills, and asks softly, “...Huh?”

Jack is not looking at him, not directly.  He’s staring at a mural of Huitzilopochtli in a blazing sun of red-gold-amber, but his eyes are far away - dark and submerged and deeply distant, his omniscience shimmering across the blue irises like moonlight over the lake.  He smiles faintly, dreamily, murmuring warmly - so warmly:

“Water is colorless.  It can be anything, it can reflect any color.  It is only blue because of all the oxygen in the atmosphere - because the oxygen refracts the white sunlight into all colors but the others are lost during the angle of the day.  But I like the light.  I like the sunrise - how it crests to the east over the oceans, how for a single, almost imperceptible moment, the sun and the sky and the water are all one without end - the light is weak but it grows stronger, and the water is strong and it grows brighter, and everything in that moment is blue and white and gold.  I like the sunsets, when the light paints everything in rainbow colors.  But more than anything - ”

Jack looks at him, seeing him again, truly seeing him - through the past and the present and to their future, the future that ends in darkness, that ends in the unknown adventure, that ends in their descent to the earth - and Jack -

Jack smiles at him so serenely, like swirling sunbeams and stormclouds:

“I like when your light is with me.”

Gabriel breathes with reverential awe.

“Water is colorless,” Jack says, still smiling in grin and gaze, “And it is the most beautiful when the light shines through it.”

Gabriel doesn’t say anything -

He holds out his hand, and Jack takes it.

They’ll go to watch the ball game, they’ll laugh and cheer with Ana and Reinhardt, and they’ll accept the offering of souls and liquor and amaranth seeds.  Later, they’ll try out the arquebus and Jack will nearly cry when it backfires spectacularly on Gabriel.  Later still, they’ll join in on the music and singing and dancing as the sun dips to the mountains in the west, scattering red and gold and amber light across the sky and the shallow, shimmering jade waters of the lake.

Later still,

They’ll go for a third round -

Just to reach that point where they drift -

Together -

On the endless ocean of liquid light in their consciousnesses.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I HAD TO PUT THE PUNS IN THERE, GUYS. I HAD TO. I HAVE A REPUTATION TO UPHOLD. As a prominent defender of Jack "Pun Master" Morrison, I have to help him maintain his tragic sense of humor in every universe.
> 
> ...Also we finally got a demonstration of Gabriel's own bad pun skills. Someday, I will do Reaper's one-liners justice. Someday...
> 
> This is probably gonna be the last direct smut I do for awhile, until the mood strikes me again. I have more ideas, I think I just want to dole them out slowly, with more patience. Action and humor are my heart and soul, so I'm gonna concentrate on getting more of that up here for myself and ya'll to enjoy. The smut and everything associated with it - humor, fluff, fuzzy feelings, intense writing, etc - will come back at a more even pace.


	3. Light and Water: Abiogenesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a NERD. I'm SORRY.

**Light and Water: In The Beginning**

Approximately 3.7 billion years ago

 

Gabriel is concentrating on keeping the gas giants together and stable when something blips on the edge of his consciousness.

He does his best to ignore it - it’s some shitty problem happening out on planet three - and tries to refocus on making planet five _fucking.  Stay.  Together._  He’s gonna have to add some sort of gravity anchor point or something, this gas just does _not_ want to condense right -

It blips again.

Gabriel feels one of his eyelids twitch slightly.

He might be struggling with these gas giants, and planet seven keeps _insisting_ on rotating _sideways_ like a fucking _douchebag_ , but the real problem - as usual - is planet three.

The rocky little piece of shit just won’t _stay calm_.

First it was basically molten lava fucking everywhere, yeah, fine, that’s how the terrestrial planets _work_ , Gabriel wasn’t surprised by that, but then there had been that fucking meteor crash and suddenly the damn planet had a moon - and somehow, without him really paying attention, it had an atmosphere.

Fine, cool, _whatever_ \- planet two had an atmosphere too -

But then.

Then something _weird_ had started happening.

Gabriel had been busy focusing on parts of the outer solar system when it had started.  Parts of the atmosphere on planet three had started _condensing_ \- but into liquid, not into solid.  And now?  Now it was fucking _covered_ in liquid - raging, boiling, steaming liquid.  The planet couldn’t seem to decide what was atmosphere and what was ocean, with everything shifting and phasing in and out of states of matter.  The whole surface of the planet was full of rocky, shaking turbulence, the temperature fluctuated constantly, and his UV radiation seemed _endless_ , even to him.

He hadn’t tried contacting Gabrielle about it - his boss was busy enough as it is, managing a major branch of the galaxy was miserable enough without Gabriel pestering her about some random ass terrestrial planet and its transformations.  And his nearest siblings were focusing on their own systems and weren’t interested in one of their youngest asking them needling questions.

The damn _thing_ blips again, growing stronger, growing more insistent, growing more _urgent_ -

Gabriel sighs, releasing his control of planet five - _he’ll just have to fucking deal with this shit later_ \- and he dissipates -

Only to recollect himself instantaneously on the surface of planet three, just about where the blip is pressing into his consciousness -

Gabriel scans the furious, tumultuous scene - waves roiling and frothing, their tips shearing off into gas and the gas condensing back into liquid, everything is a mad, boiling _mess_ \- lightning strikes and crackles in the distance and thunder roars overhead, intense sunlight blasting down from overhead -

The pressure of just existing here is _immense_.

Gabriel turns, looking for the source of the blipping -

He stops.

He is not alone.

What the actual fuck.

There’s some… _being_ standing on the steaming, raging surface of the water next to him.

The being is -

The being is _beautiful._

Gabriel watches spellbound as the water moves in and through it, like heated, liquid glass melting into shape, the pattern rippling and ribboning as the interplay of sunbeams and stormclouds above them cast stirring shadows.  Lightning strikes across different parts of the water around them, its plasma hot and searing and white-blue-white-gold-blue, occasionally with streaks of purple or even green.  Where it touches the roiling ocean, the spots churn and froth anew before the mass of the water swallows the energy like the barest touch of a fingertip, like the barest drop of blood into a lake of floating gardens and easy temples - the ripples small and miniscule compared to the vastness of the plains of the seas spreading out from them.

The being assesses its melting, fluid form, looking at its limbs and holding up a hand to watch the swirling sunbeams and stormclouds dazzle through the water of its palm, and Gabriel -

Gabriel breathes out with reverential awe:

“What the fuck are you?”

The being made of glassy water and swirling sunbeams and stormclouds and white-blue lightning strikes looks at him with impassivity, although a slight tilt of its head indicates that it is thinking over the question before saying in a dark, submerged, deep voice:

“I am composed of billions of molecules of two hydrogen atoms covalently-bonded with one oxygen atom -”

“No, asshole, I mean, what the fuck are YOU?”

The being stares at him - mostly impassively, but Gabriel thinks he can see something ripple and shift across the still-forming face, its features taking shape in a strong nose, a chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and eyes of swirling sunbeams and stormclouds, dark and submerged and deep with the glow of the water.  The being -

The being smiles at him.

It points to the mass of water spreading out from its feet.

“I am them and they are I.”

Gabriel frowns, using his enhanced vision to take a closer look at -

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE.”

There are - god, hundreds? Thousands?? Millions?? Of billions of small little things squirming and swimming around and snapping together before lightning strikes break them apart again and then they snap together again, as if drawn together by the force of magnetism or gravity or something, but those are the two main forces Gabriel knows -

“Complex carbon-based polymers,” the water being says calmly as Gabriel looks between it and the mass of things at its feet.  The being continues as if it is casually chatting with him about something as mundane and ordinary as the space dust that had rolled through his system last century, “They were originally just simple monomers in the atmosphere, but with enough water and energy and UV radiation, they became more complex.  And now they are I and I am they.”

Wait -

“Ultraviolet radiation?” Gabriel snaps with shock before looking back at the little wiggling things and then back to the being composed of glassy water and swirling sunbeams and stormclouds, asking with awe, “You mean I helped make these...what was it, polymers?”

The being nods at him, still smiling - a smile so gentle and warm and serene that the contrast with the sheer violence of the newborn world around them gives Gabriel a strange, bursting thrill in the sunstar in his chest.

And then, suddenly -

In a single, almost imperceptible moment -

The being gives him a fucking huge smirk:

“I am they and they are I - we are Life.”

\---------

_...We do know that the Aztec tribute system was fiercely resented and led many of the subject peoples to join the Spanish invaders.  Without the support of these disaffected local armies, the Spanish would never have been able to conquer Mexico.  Appropriately, the double-headed serpent tells both stories.  It is a document of the Aztec Empire at the height of its artistic, religious, and political power; it is also evidence of the systematic oppression of its subject peoples that ultimately destroyed it.  Soon Moctezuma was dead and Tenochtitlán was reduced by the Spaniards to smoking rubble.  With no emperor and no capital, the Aztec Empire was effectively at an end.  These catastrophes were swiftly followed by  the impact of devastating European diseases, especially smallpox.  It has been suggested that as much as 90 percent of the local population died within a couple of decades of the arrival of the Spaniards. - MacGregor_

\---------

“GABRIELLE.”

He knows he doesn’t need to shout but he can’t STOP himself, he’s tearing across time and space to reach her in her headquarters, he’s bursting in without introducing himself or asking for permission, he rushes across hallways as other stars gawk at him in shock and horror and the _lack of protocol_ , what the fuck, Gabriel, he thinks he can hear them shouting at him -

He barrels his way into her office and he suddenly -

What the fuck is he even going to _say_?

The dark-skinned woman, her skin glistening with freckles of stars, glances up at him absently before saying dryly, “You did not knock, Gabriel.”

“I, uh - sorry,” he mutters awkwardly, trying to figure out how exactly he’s gonna explain his, uh… _problem_ to her.

“Yeah, uh,” Gabriel says to her, struggling to find the right words to convey his confusing mess of emotions - fearful, shy, anxious, angry, frustrated and even -

Even excited?

“Yeah, look, some fucker just showed up out of nowhere and there are all these things on planet three and I’m not really sure what to do with them? There’s a fuckton of them - dude called them ‘complex polymomers’?  Wait, no...polymers?”

“Complex what?” She asks, her interest piqued, and Gabriel shrugs saying, “I dunno - he also called them Life or some shit -”

“LIFE?”

The shock and terror in her voice cuts across his words like a knife and Gabriel looks at her in confusion as Gabrielle drops her head in her hands, groaning.

“...So it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s...it’s fucking _complicated_ , Gabriel,” Gabrielle mutters, rubbing her forehead with exasperation, “Sometimes life can be truly wonderful but more often than not it’s just a piece of shit to deal with.  You remember that uh - that uh - FUCK, what was it called - that one galaxy far far away?”

“The uh…” Gabriel racks his brain, trying to remember the name, “That one from a long time ago, uh…”

“Well, whatever, you know the one,” Gabrielle sighs, lifting her head to look at him seriously, “They had life start out there and next thing you know, they got a bad case of the Skywalkers fucking EVERYTHING up.”

“...Do I want to know what Skywalkers are?” Gabriel asks with a light chuckle and she waggles her finger at him, snapping, “Don’t toy with me, boy - you better fuckin’ pray you don’t get anything like the Skywalkers.”

Gabrielle sighs more seriously, shaking her head slowly, her dark springy hair bouncing lightly at the motion, “More often than not, life is just...just so complicated, Gabriel.  It ends up changing and evolving and becoming something entirely different, entirely new and no force in the universe can stop it or control it.  It eventually develops complexity and sentience and intelligence and then it starts thinking, and once it starts thinking it starts thinking it’s special, and then because it thinks it’s special, it begins to moralize and once that happens - everything gets completely fucked.”

“Does it have to...progress like that?” Gabriel asks hesitantly, “Maybe we can stop it.”

“What did I just say?  Hmm?  What part of, ‘no force in the universe can stop it or control it’ did you not understand? It just happens, and it will destroy everything.”

“Those things were so small, though,” Gabriel mutters, hardly feeling threatened by them, “Just the lightning would destroy them and break them apart.  They aren’t harming anything.”

Gabrielle gives him a hard, even, terrible look before her voice slips out in a violent whisper:

“They will.  At some point, they will even try to harm you.”

Gabriel fucking laughs at that, cackling, “Fucking hell, Adawe, you’re paranoid as shit about this -”

“Mock wisdom at your peril, child,” she seethes at him, “But the life in that one galaxy far far away managed to drain a star of all its energy in moments - and then they used its energy to destroy one of its own planets.”

Gabriel stills at that, feeling his sunstar pulse a little at the words.

Gabrielle stares him down, hard and fierce, the whites of her binary-star eyes burning into his small, feeble star in comparison, and she states in an omniscient voice:

“First they will fear you, then they will worship you, then they will attempt to learn about you, then they will attempt to harness your energy, then they WILL harness your energy, then they will not NEED to harness your radiation because they will discover your TRUE energy of nuclear fusion - and then, and then -

“They will discard you.  And eventually destroy you.”

The two stars continue to stare at each other in silence until Gabriel cracks a shit-eating grin:

“I fucking love a good challenge.”

\---------

_In their quest to reduce the Indians, the missionaries appear to have benefited from the great waves of pestilence that swept New Spain hand in hand with colonial conquest in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.  The impact of these epidemics was stunning, particularly in the first century of European contact.  From a pre-Columbian population that may have been as high as twenty-five million, the population of central Mexico plummeted to only two million by 1600, rebounding somewhat thereafter.  Farther north, a similar pattern emerged, delayed by three-quarters of a century, but dramatic nonetheless.  The Pueblo Indians of New Mexico saw their numbers drop from as many as one hundred thousand in 1600 to forty thousand in 1638 and only seventeen thousand in 1680.  To the southwest, in the desert province of Sonora, one Jesuit missionary believed that the native population had declined by more than 90 percent by 1706. - Fenn_

\---------

The being watches over the seething, boiling mass of water and wind and lightning and sunbeams, but inside he is calm, tranquil, still as glass and quiet as the void.  Outside, he is violence and rage and pulse-plasma energy smashing into molecules of two-hydrogen covalently-bonded with oxygen, but inside -

Inside he is dark and submerged and deep.

Even he does not know the deepest point of his oceans.

...But that does not mean he will not try to find it.

He shifts a little as one of the rays of sunlight behind him swirls and condenses, morphing first into a glowing orb of red and gold and amber, soft tendrils of smoke and steam rising from where the raindrops burn from its intensity, and even now -

Even now without him knowing it, without him meaning to -

The being of sunlight and pure, burning, melting, fusing energy continues to create more monomers, snapping atoms together with the little extra bursts of radiation his proximity imbues in them -

The being of sunlight continues to create more segments and particles of life.

The being of water smiles at the being of light as the rest of the rays of sunlight build his form around the sunstar, constructing him out of red and gold and amber and even drawing in little bits of grey stormclouds and crumbling earth to give him his beautiful, vibrant colors - rich and warm like the velvety texture of softly-drifting space dust.

“What did your boss say?” the being of water asks as the being of light solidifies into his main form, his face grim and scowling, but the being of water senses -

Senses that the being of light is not angry, or mad, or even frustrated.

The being of light is merely thinking.

He is just fucking terrible at conveying it.

“...She had a lot of shit to say about this shit you call life,” the being of light grumbles at him, glancing at the little particles dancing and squirming in the water, “Mainly that these little things are a real fucking pain in the ass when they start...uh...evolving?  And that they eventually become destructive little shits that want to ruin everything.”

The being of water blinks at him a few times before asking, “And what did you say to that?”

The being of light looks at him -

And then a wicked, vicious, vivid grin burst out like a sunflare across his face.

“I told her, ‘That jackass better fucking bring it, or I’m gonna fucking destroy him in 13 billion years when I consume his shitty little planet whole.’”

The being of water stares at him in shock, before it too cracks a wide, broad, malicious grin:

“I’d like to you see you fucking try.”

They continue to grin at each other like maniacs until the being of light scowls, asking, “What the fuck do I call you?”

The being of water just shrugs, suggesting, “Two hydrogen atoms covalently-bonded with one oxyge-"

“I am NOT calling you that, jackass,” the being of light snaps at him with a sizzle and the being of water just shrugs again, before asking, “What are you called?”

“I am a G-type main sequence star of the G2V spectral class and -”

“And you got mad at me for calling myself two hydrogen atoms covalently-bonded with one -”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, jackass, the other stars call me Gabriel because I’m part of the Gabrielle branch out here and also because my class designation has two G’s in it,” the being of light - Gabriel - growls at him, before adding slowly, “And because...well, anyways, we gotta think of a name for you or something.”

The being of water looks at him with a dark, submerged, deep expression of thought and contemplation, before asking solemnly, “Is ‘Jackass’ my name?”

Gabriel looks fucking horrified at the question, stammering, “OH HOLY SHIT, NO, please, no, listen - I’m begging you -”

But then -

The being of water starts to laugh.

It sounds like the pleasant rumbling of thunder clouds in the distance, like the promise of a summer rain, like the rhythmic beating of waves upon a shore - it crackles with tension and electricity and the unfathomable depth of the oceans.

It is the most incredible sound Gabriel has ever heard.

And he’s seen stars explode into supernovas or collapse into black holes.  He’s seen plasma storms in the voids of space and the freezing rush of meteors.  He’s seen thousands of beautiful things and he’s heard thousands of beautiful processes and none of them compare to the beauty of the sound of life itself.

The being of water once again smirks a dark, submerged, deep grin of terrible, devastating beauty:

“I like that name.”

“Oh no you FUCKING DON’T -”

“I do,” the fucking jackass of all jackasses snorts, “I like it.  What a shitty word, what a shitty name - but I’ll bear it if it means pissing you right the fuck off.  After all - I can’t let you down now, can I?  I’m gonna fucking bring it.”

Gabriel grins back again, and the two of them watch the boiling, seething ocean roll and froth beneath swirling sunbeams and stormclouds for a moment, until Gabriel asks:

“Can I at least fucking call you Jack or some shit?  It’s gonna get real awkward calling you Jackass and then actually calling you a jackass.”

The being of water chuckles, “Only if I can call you Gabi.”

“...I fucking regret this already.”

“I am going to show you the coolest shit, Gabi,” Jack says, the lightning casting an eerie, watery glow on his face as he watches the waves churn and roll, “I am going to make something great.”

“... _We’re_ gonna make something great, jackass - it’s still my planet,” Gabriel corrects him but he’s still smiling, still grinning - he still feels excited.

“...We’ll see about that,” Jack smirks back and Gabriel turns towards him, mocking, “Oh, oh shit - okay, I see how it is.  Not even day one and you’re already starting a coup - are you rebelling, Jack?”

“It’s not a rebellion if you’re overthrowing a tyrant,” Jack laughs, spraying some water at the being of light - the droplets sizzle against his dark skin, and the being of water taunts back, “At that point, it’s called a revolution.”

“Oh, you MOTHERFUCKER -”

But Jack is laughing at him and speeding across the rough, matted surface of the ocean, the water rushing and swirling around him and Gabriel takes off after him, grinning wildly -

This is the start of something great.

\---------

_The [smallpox] epidemic’s arrival in this far-flung realm of the empire is one of those rare episodes in which the documentary record actually describes the transmission of the disease.  It was thanks to the attempt to colonize Alta California that Variola (smallpox) ravaged the Indians of the slender, mountainous Baja peninsula.  In the late winter or spring of 1781, just as smallpox took a firm grip on Sonora, a company of settlers destined for Alta California gathered at the town of Alamos near the northwest coast of Mexico.  The party’s purpose was to establish the Pueblo de Nuestra Señora de los Angeles - modern-day Los Angeles - near San Gabriel Mission in the southern reaches of Alta California._

_The little band of settlers eventually attained their objective, but they left havoc in their wake.  Smallpox was only part of the problem. - Fenn_

\---------

**Reyes and Morrison: And On the Seventh Day**

December 7, 2042: 1643 hrs - West Point Library, Jefferson Hall, U.S. Military Academy in New York - one week before final exams.

 

“I can’t fucking write this,” Gabriel groans, sinking his head into his hands as he slumps forward dramatically on the table, pushing aside some books and papers and his laptop.  They bump and wiggle against Jack’s stack of books and papers and his laptop, and Jack just rolls his eyes at Gabriel’s melodramatics, muttering, “I know you know how to write a fucking seven page essay, Gabi.”

“Write it for me, Jack,” comes the semi-muffled response spoken mainly into the lacquered wood grain of the table.  And then, as if to sweeten the offer, Gabriel mumbles, “I’ll do your Spanish homework for you.”

“ _Pendejo, sé como hacer mi tarea_ ,” Jack sighs back, before leaning over and poking Gabriel’s shaved head with the eraser end of his pencil.  They’re sitting in the _massive_ , state-of-the-art Jefferson Hall library at West Point, at one of the rich mahogany tables in the main study area.  There are soft murmurs of the other cadets also studying, grinding through homework, and generally “prepping” for their upcoming finals week, with “prepping” consisting primarily of low-volume swear words and sighs of despair.  The room is filled with a light that is somehow both bright and gentle, warm and radiant despite the month: it is born from the setting sun - all shades of red and gold and amber - casting gentle, oil-painted light through the massive windows, combined with the low lamps set out about the room, glowing golden like the warmth of candles.  They’re sitting catty-corner across from each other - diagonal to each other’s upper right - in order to try and maximize space on the table, but it’s not working very well.  The table is a cluttered mess of history books, chemistry lab manuals, Spanish dictionaries, laptop power cords and headphone cables, mixed paper notes and a scattering of pens and pencils and highlighters - at this point, they’ve pretty much forgotten which ones have belonged to Gabriel and which ones have belonged to Jack and essentially just share their writing utensils.  Jack insists it’s because Gabriel will sometimes just pick up a second pen or pencil and start writing with both hands, which is somehow both impressive and _slightly terrifying_ , and he’ll be so deep in concentration on something that he’ll end up misplacing shit everywhere.

It is _miserably tempting_ to fall asleep under the gentle, soft December atmosphere filling the study hall, and Gabriel almost lets his eyelids caress him into the deep, submerged depths of the ocean of slumber when -

A small eraser point squishes against the right side of his head.

“C’mon,” Jack says to him, his tone a mixture of frustration and quiet cheer, “Tell me what the prompt is.  I’ll help you on your outline.”

“Uggghhh,” Gabriel grumbles slightly, lifting his head as his hands reach for some of the books his history professor had assigned over the semester.  He refocuses on the blinking document page on his laptop, which is mostly empty save for the loose prompt that he’s copied-and-pasted as a blunt reminder of his objective.

“Pick one of the books assigned this semester and discuss how the subject matter shows the interconnectivity of local American historical events with larger, global historical events, and describe how social, political, economic, or cultural factors influenced both.  Be sure to use quotes and cite sources and blah blah fucking blah,” Gabriel explains to his companion, who just chuckles as he looks back at his Spanish homework.  Jack says, “That doesn’t sound like it’s _entirely_ accurate.”

“You know the drill - quotes and sources and formatting and all that shit,” Gabriel drones, poking through his stack of history books.  Jack glances up at him quizzically, asking, “So what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, ‘What’s wrong?’  It’s an essay - it’s inherently wrong.”

“No, asshole, I mean, ‘What’s stopping you from writing this?’” Jack says, settling back in his chair, “Seems like the kind of prompt that suits you.”

Gabriel scowls as he thinks the statement over, before nodding slightly, “I mean...I like it well enough, I guess.  For an essay topic.  I just...don’t want to write it.”

“You did fine on all your other essays for this class, right?”

“Yeah but those ones had more -” Gabriel mutters, making a weird squeezing gesture with his hands that gets Jack to make a vaguely deadpan look at him.  The older cadet huffs, “Those had more focus.  This one is so _broad_ I don’t really know where to begin.”

“Alright, so which book did you like the best?” Jack asks, trying to start with the basics.  Gabriel pouts a little as he considers his options, before pulling out one from the stack, saying, “Probably the smallpox book.”

“...You fucking would like the disease book, you nerd,” Jack mutters as Gabriel brightens a little, flipping through the pages, saying with soft-volumed excitement, “Ey, no, Jack, _Jack_ \- you gotta listen to this shit, _hombre_.  This shit was fucking _wild_ -”

“Gabe, you’ve been talking about that book for fucking two months now - I know _way_ too much about smallpox now -” Jack starts, but Gabriel is _completely unfazed_ , the asshole.  He begins to read, eyes lighting up with some strange inner fire:

“If the pustules remain discrete - if they do not run together - the prognosis is good.  But if they converge upon one another in a single, oozing mass, it is not.  This is called confluent smallpox, and patients who develop it stand at least a 60 percent chance of dying.  For some, as the rash progresses in the mouth and throat, drinking becomes difficult, and dehydration follows.  Often, an odor peculiar to smallpox develops.  ‘The small-pox pustules begin to crack run and smell,’ wrote one Boston physician -”

“ _Stop_ ,” Jack hisses at him, squirming reflexively at the grotesque description and Gabriel flashes a strange, wicked grin at him as Jack scowls, “You’ve already read that part to me - I _don’t_ need to hear it again.”

“This shit is fucking _crazy_ , like thank Christ we don’t have that anymore,” Gabriel says, strangely captivated by the passage.  He’s always found it easy to get into history, to pour into book after book of tiny decisions and actions that shift into larger consequences, like droplets cresting into ripples across the passages of time, like magnets tilting and snapping into place.  This particular book had outlined the rippling consequences of a smallpox epidemic across North America at the time of the Revolutionary War, putting together the social, political, economic, and cultural pieces that had brought people together in vivid, intensely personal ways.

The idea that all these small, human choices could add up - like the marching of ants - to build something in perpetual motion -

Something no force in the universe could stop or control -

Something that could overthrow empires and spark revolutions.

Too bad all that energy didn’t automatically translate into words in a fucking essay.

Jack shudders slightly, muttering, “Smallpox was the scourge of humanity.  Thank God we destroyed it.”

“What?” Gabriel asks, the confusion snapping him out of his small moment of excitement, “Oh nah, dude, we still have smallpox.  It’s just quarantined.”

“...What the fuck,” Jack breathes, giving him a fierce stare, “Why the fuck wouldn’t people destroy it?”

“Mmm, the author says that the United States claimed there was still some smallpox being held secret out in the world or some shit,” Gabriel says, “And that’s why the U.S. wouldn’t get rid of it.  Also that the _intentionality_ of deliberately destroying another species was controversial or something.”

“...The _fuck_ is wrong with our fucking government,” Jack swears and Gabriel is somewhat surprised to see such vehemence on his face.  The older cadet asks, “Damn, the fuck’s got you all worked up?  So there’s some smallpox left in some boxes in the world - big deal.”

“It’s a ‘big deal’ because nations aren’t willing to set aside their bullshit politics for the good of humanity,” Jack states with a sharp, crackling, thunderous intent that sends a strange wave of shivers up Gabriel’s spine.  The younger cadet folds his arms fiercely, as a dark, submerged, deep look of intensity settles onto his face, and he breathes with such _power_ , “This is why the world still has so many problems.  Think about if we had put in that same effort into eradicating malaria, or improving literacy rates, or creating better global health care.  But no, _no_ \- governments and their fucking politics and power grabs all get so _weird_ about relinquishing even the tiniest bit of control, because they gotta ‘look out for their own interests’ or what the fuck ever, even when giving up that control would benefit humanity greatly, even when it’s for the global good.”

“...And the concept of willfully destroying another species’ life just... _doesn’t_ bother you?” Gabriel asks him with slight incredulity.  Gabriel doesn’t really give a fuck about if some disease exists in boxes in some secret government facility or not, and he doesn’t even really give a fuck about the ethics of destroying another species for the greater good, but _holy hell_ -

If this hasn’t ignited some sort of _fire_ in Jack’s soul.

And Gabriel finds watching that passion _burn_ to be _mesmerizing_.

Jack turns wide, distant, almost-unseeing eyes - eyes full of hurricanes and thunderstorms and even surprisingly gentle sunshowers, full of lakes that dream the sky, full of water over light and light reflecting water - and states in a dark, submerged, deep voice:

“ _There is nothing wrong with destroying something that stands in the way of a better world._ ”

Jack stares at Gabriel - stares at how his light-dark eyes, full of flakes of red and gold and amber, full of tints of the sunset and the glow of candle-like lamps, grow wide at Jack’s words, and there’s an open, honest, amazed expression on his face before Gabriel gives him the widest, brightest, most _radiant_ smile Jack has ever seen.

It feels like the sunrise over a jade lake -

“Holy shit, _pendejo_ ,” Gabriel chuckles loudly, “You’re fucking _brutal_.”

The volume of his voice - dark and bittersweet and smokey - gets several of the surrounding students to hush at them, and both of them wince in chastisement, before Gabriel mutters with a softer warmth, “That’s fucking _vicious_ of you, holy fuck.  That’s some Ozymandias shit right there.”  Jack shrugs rather casually but gives Gabriel a sly, trickster smile, “I’m here for that new-world-order bullshit.  Let’s build a global collective government anyways.”

Gabriel smirks, “Oh yeah?  And who’s gonna run that?  The Illuminati?”  Jack just chuckles brightly, “How about you?  Wanna be in charge, Gabi?”

“Oh _Jesus Christ no_ ,” Gabriel groans, rubbing at his temple, “Sounds like a bad headache and a pain in the ass.”

“Think of all the essays you’d have to write,” Jack jokes and Gabriel sighs, “Listen, if I were to rule the world, I’d make _you_ write all my essays.  And I won’t offer to do your Spanish homework in exchange.”

“Now that’s just rude,” Jack mocks him lightly, before asking, “What about you?  Would you destroy another species for the good of humanity?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Gabriel says blithely without hesitation, punctuating the statement with a small roll of his shoulders as he taps out something on his laptop document.  The cadet doesn’t look at Jack, but smirks anyways, saying, “Fuck yeah, destroy them all or something.  Anything that stands in the way of me being king of your new world order or whatever.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Jack laughs, before scribbling down a few more words on his Spanish assignment as he says, “So our first order of business will be destroying the remaining smallpox in the world, right?”

“Yeah sure, whatever you say, Imma let you organize this little conspiracy operation,” Gabriel says with a slight handwave and Jack smiles back, murmuring warmly, “Great, I’ll put that down on the docket.”

“Pfffttt, ‘docket,’ _qué chingados_ ,” Gabriel wheezes, “You were made for this shit, _joder_.”

“I can’t help it if I was born great, Gabi,” Jack beams at him, and Gabriel gives him a wicked smile, grumbling, “Such a high opinion of yourself, you arrogant little shit.  Sounds like someone needs an asskicking.”

“You wanna fucking try me?” Jack taunts back, but their escalating volume gets another round of hushing and they force themselves to settle back into sullen, reprimanded quietness.  They work individually for a little bit, Gabriel typing away intermittently and Jack scratching out more answers in pencil, occasionally erasing and rewriting where he writes “in” for “en” or “is” for “es.”

“...Do you still need help with ideas?” Jack asks softly, with surprising gentleness, and Gabriel shrugs a little, pulling out his history notebook, saying, “Not really.  Maybe later.  We already wrote an essay on this book, so I might just use some of that again, but I don’t want to turn in the same thing.  That’s just sloppy.”

But after a pause, with the faintest touch of hesitancy, Gabriel asks him lowly, “Is it okay if I ask for help later?”

“Mmm, that depends,” Jack hums pleasantly, even though the real answer that rises from the depths inside him is simply “ _Always_.”  But instead of saying the truth, instead of saying what burns dark, submerged, and deep in his heart, Jack smiles at him, asking playfully, “Will you look over my Spanish homework in exchange?”

Gabriel sighs with a soft, relenting chuckle, as warm as sunshine over a jade lake, “Yeah, sure, whenever you’re done.”

“Then we have a deal.”

Gabriel gives him a sly, charming smirk before returning to typing at his laptop and they work in still, watery silence for a moment, letting the long hues of red and gold and amber light their comfortable tranquility, until Jack asks on a whim, “...If you could go anywhere in history, at any point in time, where would you go?”

“...You’re gonna laugh, because it’s dumb,” Gabriel mutters with a little bit of smokey tartness to his voice, and Jack says teasingly, “It literally cannot be any more ridiculous than my answer.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s yours?”

“Nuh-uh, your answer first!” Jack says cheerfully and Gabriel shoots him a sour look before he sighs reluctantly:

“...Tenochtitlán.  At the height of its power.  Before it was destroyed.”

“... _Qué chingados_ , that’s not a dumb answer in the slightest,” Jack murmurs warmly, and Gabriel shrugs a little, saying, “It’s not like it was even all that long ago.  Like...I _should_ answer like the Battle of Marathon or the Library of Alexandria or the construction of the Great Wall or something.  But I… It was supposed to be one of the most amazing cities the Spanish had ever seen.  It was built on a lake, it had canals and floating gardens, and all these bridges that connected islands.  And the Templo Mayor was supposed to be huge and you could see everything for miles -”

“That sounds _amazing_ ,” Jack says wistfully and Gabriel nods, “It just… It would be so cool, you know?  To see it.  To see what it once was.  To experience it.”

“Aren’t there still ruins of the Templo Mayor in Mexico City?” Jack asks and Gabriel scowls, saying, “Yeah, there are.  They’re in the dead center or something.  And a museum, I think.”

“We should go!” the younger cadet says cheerfully, and the older cadet just rolls his eyes.

“Oh yeah?  When the fuck are we gonna find time for that?” Gabriel says teasingly and Jack says emphatically, “Right now.  Let’s go.  Let’s just fuckin’ leave.  Fuckin’ just walk to JFK.  We’ll get on the next plane to Mexico City.  Just fuckin’ walk to the Templo Mayor.  Boom.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Gabriel snorts, “This essay is only like an outline and two paragraphs in.  I’ll fucking do it.  I’ll just leave.”

“How about summer?” Jack says with a slightly more solemn tone, but his eyes dance with a strange, eerie glow, like looking up at sunbeams from beneath the surface of the water.

Gabriel’s light-dark eyes widen a little at the question, before he scowls, “That’s gonna be _fucking hot_ , holy shit.”

“Dude, you have _not_ experienced Indiana in the summer,” Jack retorts, “We don’t get very high temperatures, but the _humidity_ \- now that will fuck you up.”

“Worse than Basic Training was this summer?” Gabriel asks and Jack nods, which causes Gabriel to snort, “Please.  Mexico City is gonna be a thousand times worse anyways.  You gotta go in the winter or something.”

“Well, good thing Winter Break is right around the corner,” Jack teases and Gabriel sighs patiently, “C’mon, man, I already got my ticket to LA and everything.”

“Next Winter Break?”

“...You’re serious,” the older cadet finally clues in, saying with soft awe, “You actually wanna go.”

“Fuck yeah I do,” Jack states back, “We should go see it - whenever you want.  Right now, next week, next year, in ten years - whenever you want.”

“You’d want to travel with me?” Gabriel asks curiously, “Not like...Andrew or your family or some shit?  You wanna travel with some asshole you met at West Point?”

“Sure, why not?  I wanna travel with someone who knows history, so a history major is perfect for that,” Jack says lightly, humming slightly to himself as he scribbles something down.  He doesn’t say that he feels like...feels like -

Like Gabriel would be the best traveling companion.

That more than anyone else in his life, Gabriel would be the one he would want to see the beauty of the world and the richness of life with - to stand on the Great Wall with, to see sunrises over the Himalayas with, to get heat exhausted with out in the Savannah, to marvel at the pyramids of Giza with, to run through the sunlit white buildings of Ilios with, to snap cheesy photos of Big Ben with, to sing and laugh in the musical atmosphere of Rio de Janeiro with -

To contemplate the ruins of the Templo Mayor with -

To reflect on the fall of empires.

Jack smiles, saying gently, “Let’s see the world together.  After all…”

And he looks up, giving Gabriel a raw, terrible, stormy smirk:

“We gotta see the world we’re gonna conquer.”

Gabriel gives him a blinding, dazzling, shit-eating grin that seems almost iridescent in the long red and gold and amber hues of the sunset:

“You’re such a jackass sometimes, Morrison.  Fucking shit, let’s do it.”

They continue to grin at each other like maniacs until Gabriel finally scowls, “Wait, what was your answer?”

“Oh, that,” Jack says dryly, “I would want to see the Forbidden City.”

“That’s not a dumb answer,” Gabriel says with some confusion, “Why the fuck -”

“I would want to see the Forbidden City when Zheng He brought back a giraffe and everyone thought it was a qilin,” Jack states with a sly smirk.  Gabriel frowns as he thinks about it, and then his eyes go wide with realization, saying, “Oh...oh holy shit, that would be _amazing_.”

“Right?  God, I’m so glad you agree,” Jack laughs lightly, and Gabriel beams at him, “We gotta add Beijing to the list, huh?”

“Before or after Mexico City?”

“Whenever,” Gabriel says, settling back to his laptop, but the faintest smile graces his features like the first brushstrokes of sunrise, “There’s no rush.”

And Jack smiles as well, returning to his own work, fixing one of his accent marks as Gabriel starts typing again.

The soft stillness settles over them like the oil-painted sunlight over a shallow, shimmering jade lake.

Later, Jack will help edit and proofread Gabriel’s essay, and Gabriel will get an A on it.  Gabriel will revise Jack’s Spanish homework and tell him that this phrase or that phrase is a little awkward.  Later, they will both do well on their first finals for their first semester of their first year at West Point.  And they will do well on their second set of finals for their second semester, and on and on.  Later still, they will rise to the top of the SEP rankings board and feel invincible, they will feel like a force of reckoning.  Later still, joined by heroes and companions who resonate with them like shards of stars in their souls, they will stop the greatest Crisis the world has ever seen, armed only with guns and the spirit of war and the golden biotic fields of liquid life.

Later still, their empire will conquer the world and usher in a new era of peace and stability.

And they will feel invincible -

They will feel like a power that no force in the universe can stop or control.

And later still -

Their empire will fall

From the inside out.

As all empires do.

\---------

_I met a traveller from an antique land_

_Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone_

_Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,_

_Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,_

_And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,_

_Tell that its sculptor well those passions read_

_Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,_

_The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:_

_And on the pedestal these words appear:_

_'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:_

_Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'_

_Nothing beside remains. Round the decay_

_Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare_

_The lone and level sands stretch far away._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References (what the fuck, who has references for a fucking smut fic, what's wrong with me):
> 
> Baquedano, Elizabeth: "Concepts of Death and the Afterlife in Central Mexico." In "Living with the Dead: Mortuary Ritual in Mesoamerica."
> 
> Bernardino de Sahagún: "Historia general de las cosas de la Nueva España" (General History of the Things of New Spain) - translations by Baquedano.
> 
> Diego Durán: "The History of the Indies of New Spain" and "Book of the Gods and Rites" and "Ancient Calendar"
> 
> Fenn, Elizabeth: "Pox Americana: The Great Smallpox Epidemic of 1775-82."
> 
> MacGregor, Neil: "A History of the World in 100 Objects."
> 
> Navajo Code Talkers: World War II fact sheet ( https://www.history.navy.mil/research/library/online-reading-room/title-list-alphabetically/n/code-talkers.html )
> 
> Tablet erected by Zheng He in Changle, Fujian Province, in 1432
> 
> \---
> 
> I CANNOT recommend Pox Americana enough. Seriously, if you have an interest in seeing how all sorts of aspects of life - history, culture, biology, war, economy, etc - work together to have a massive, largely unrecognized impact on the world, this is the book to read. Fenn pulled together a huge amount of sources to document how a relatively small smallpox outbreak in Massachusetts near the start of the Revolution War came to be spread across the entire North American continent, even preceeding European exploreres in many places and affecting Native American populations with horrific consequences. It is a great demonstration of how individual people and the movements of armies, traders, missionaries, workers, and explorers had silent but often lethal effects on people thousands of miles away.
> 
> \---
> 
> Other than that, I'm not really sure I know what else to say. Thank you for reading. Hopefully you gained something from this, whether it was inspiration or an interest in history or even just a moment of fun, flirty, flighty entertainment, I hope it was enjoyable for you. As I said, comments are moderated but I guarantee you that I'll let like 99% of them through. As I said in the beginning, I'll even let criticisms through if they're polite or informative. I want to try and improve as a person and an author, so everything short of insults is welcome.
> 
> I don't really intend to continue this AU, and I don't really intend for it to be anything meaningful to my other fics beyond as a creative way to organize my mental metaphors, myths, and meanings for myself. When the longass fic starts going up - hopefully in the next few weeks - you guys will be able to see where some of my ideas for the Overwatch characters are coming from and not be like, totally lost when I start rambling about Chaac or Becab or valkyries or coyotes or whatever else.


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